The Downside of Elemental Dieseling
by Nickeltaffy
Summary: Spike has just recovered from being a four year old the previous day. While trying to get back to life as usual, things go a little screwy. What if the stone wasn't done messing with the blonde vampire? Sequel to: Turning the Helical Gear.
1. Chapter 1 revised

**The Downside of Elemental Dieseling**

Author: Nickeltaffy

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…These characters are Joss's. I don't own them, never did and never will. Thanks for the loan, Joss.

Spike has just recovered from being a four year old the previous day. While trying to get back to life as usual, what if the stone wasn't done messing with the blonde vampire? Sequel to: Turning the Helical Gear.

…

Chapter 1

"There must be some kind of bleedin mass delusion OR the entire team has gone bug shaggin crazy! I really can't think which one is more likely."

Spike thought as he was standing near the doorway, waiting since Angel requested that he stick around after the meeting. It was bad enough not to have any memory of what had happened the previous day, but did they really expect him to swallow that crazy story? Spike was slowly shaking his head as he reviewed the incredibly balmy story that had been extolled to him at the meeting. They actually wanted him to believe that he had turned into a four year old yesterday. Who were they bleedin kiddin? As Gunn and Wes marched past him, he found that he was being confronted with affectionate gesture by each of them, whether it was a manly pat on the shoulder or friendly paternal grin. Looking at the earnest expressions , Spike felt he had suffered about as much goodwill with as he could stand at this hour in the morning.

"Uh huh. Angel, Please tell me you're not continue this farce? I can take a joke, but don't you think this is going a bit far?" Spike asked, peering at the dark haired vampire who had just finished conversing with Fred.

"What we're saying is true, Spike." Angel stated, flipping his eyes momentarily away from Fred to the blond vampire, whose stance was unknowingly echoing the small child from yesterday.

"I don't know what has been putting in the coffee or blood for that matter around here…but I think someone should take a look into it." Spike argued as his face wrinkled with annoyance. "Look, can we just move this along? I have things to kill and places to go."

"Spike, since you brought that up, I don't want you to leave the premises before Fred checks you out. Your cases can wait." Angel said with a direct paternal manner.

"Bleedin Hell! " Taken aback by the serious tone of Angel, Spike pulled back and said. "Look, it's not that I don't enjoy Fred's company, but I don't see why I have to be inconvenienced by your misdirected concern. I am perfectly well."

"Come on, Spike. It won't be so bad. I will enjoy having you down in the lab with me this morning." Fred said as she turned toward the blonde, then with an ingratiating grin added. "What if sweeten the deal with some cookies?"

At the sound of barely suppressed amusement, Spike lifted a puzzled eyebrow at the pretty young scientist. After taking a moment to speak with some control, Spike opened his mouth again to argue, but was cut off by Angel before any words came out of his mouth.,

"That's an order, Spike." Angel announced dictatorially. "I have informed the firm that you will need written approval from Fred to leave the building or issue any cars out of motor vehicles to you".

"Oh come on. Really? How do you expect me to work? I don't see what the fuss is about?" Spike declared. As he looked at Angel, he saw his argument was not making any headway in persuading the determined vampire. "Buggar! Fine. I'll bleedin get Fred's written approval before I leave. I can't believe I have to put up with this. I'll be traipsing around here like a schoolboy with a note for the teacher!" Spike grumbled as he left the conference room.

Upon hearing the last sentence, Fred placed a warning finger across her lips as she winked at Angel.

…

After the meeting, Spike accompanied Fred down to her lab. As they walked through the lab's double doors, Fred was met by a distressed Knox regarding some emergency in the lab. Something or other was breaking out of its' cage was all Spike could follow from the discussion between the two scientists. After holding up a hand to stem the distress pouring out Knox, Fred pointed Spike toward her office, and told him that she would be up in a few minutes. She didn't expect the situation to last very long.

After a few hours, a very bored Spike had his feet up on Fred's desk and was slinging sharpened pencils upward to end up being stuck in the ceiling. Finally having enough of that little entertainment, Spike got up and stood at the window of Fred's office looking down at the lab. He thought whatever Fred and Knox were doing, it was taking quite a bit longer than they estimated. Sighing, Spike turned around and looked at Fred's office and shrugged. Wandering around, casually looking at the items on the desk, Spike idly picked up a document to peruse. He notice that the document had Fred's signature on the bottom. An idea flashed in Spike's mind which brought an evil smile to his face as his eyes went back to the window to the lab. After conducting a little adroit forgery work using a blank release form and Fred's signature, Spike gleefully faxed the dubiously fabricated form over to the Transportation department. Knowing that Fred could return at any time, Spike hurriedly left a note informing her that he is going to check out another department and he'll swing back by later. Stuffing his counterfeit original into his duster's pocket, Spike quietly snuck out Fred's office. Just as the door closed, the fax machine jumped to life once again. Spike did not realize that Fred had set the fax machine to create a copy of any outgoing faxes. The fax machine hummed as it generated the copy and dumped it into the tray below.

Spike easily slid out of the Science lab unnoticed by the engrossed scientists dealing with the emergency situation in the lab. He made his way over to the elevators, his eyes canvassing the lobby to see if anyone noticed his break for freedom. Once at the elevators, Spike was fidgeting and looking over his shoulder back at the lab doors several times as he waited. When the elevator doors opened, Gunn stepped forward and looking up with surprise to see Spike passing him through doors.

"Spike. I see you're leaving." Gunn said as he turned around and looked at Spike in the elevator as the vampire reached forward to repeatedly push the buttons on the panel. "Everything check out with Fred?"

"I can't imagine it going any better, mate." Spike says with a grin as the elevator doors close. Gunn turns back to go to the lobby, but if he had been looking at the elevator, he would have seen Spike look up at the ceiling and blow a big puff of air as he impatiently waited for the doors to close.

When the elevator finally arrived at the garage level, Spike went over to the manned desk of the transportation department. There was an affable looking older man sitting behind the desk, arranging different stacks of papers. He was wearing a standard mechanic shirt with the name Howard embroidered on the the front.

"Hello Howie. How ya doin today? I need a car." Spike greeted the man as he casually leaned against the counter. Making an effort to look relaxed, Spike's eyes roamed the office, checking to see if he is about to be caught.

"Hello, Mr. Spike." The man with graying fuzzy sideburns responded as he pulled up his clipboard to rest against his barrell chest. He frowned as he stared at the small script and cleared his voice to add. "Um, it says here that you're not supposed to be issued any cars, until you've been cleared by Miss Fred."

"I believe if you check your fax machine, you'll see the clearance was faxed over." Spike confidentily informed the man, indicating the office machine on the far side of the room with his head,

The man pushed his rolling chair over to the wall behind the counter, so he didn't have to get up. Pulling a document off the top of the fax machine, Howie scanned the document in his hand as he rolled back to the desk.

"Yep, here it is. Sorry for the delay." Howie apologized as he laid it on the desk and began to to shuffle through the paperwork sitting there.

""Ta, think nothin of it, mate. So, what have ya got for me?" Spike responded with a wide grin, happy that his little deception had worked.

"Let's see what we got available on the cars with the solar retardant tinted glass. The Corvette is reserved by Mr. Angel. The Aston is in the shop." Howie muttered. Then looking up to Spike, he asked. "That only leaves the Viper. Is that okay?"

"Sounds perfect!"

…

It wasn't until a few hours later that Fred made her way back to her office. When she opened the door, she wasn't surprised not to see the vampire there. Sure enough, he had left a note that he was still on the Wolfram and Hart premises. She checked her watch. It was almost after four o'clock. Spike would have to hurry, if she was going to perform a cellular exam before quitting time. Hoping to catch up with Spike, she began to call around. She picked up the phone to call Harmony to ask if she had seen Spike. Harmony stated she had not seen Spike since this morning. Fred then called Wes who also stated that he had not seen Spike. Fred then called Gunn who said he had run into Spike at the elevators about an hour before lunchtime. She asked if he knew where Spike was going. No, he couldn't all he knew was that Spike took a down elevator.

That was odd. Where could Spike have headed? Fred then noticed the paper in the out tray of the fax machine. She had the machine to automatically make a copy of whatever was faxed out for security sake. She picked up the fax copy. She was stunned to see the faked release that Spike had conjured up with her signature. She looked at the fax history at the top of the page. It was faxed to the transportation division. She immediately picked up the phone and quickly punched in the extension number. The phone ran down on the garage level, after a few rings it was picked up.

"Wolfram and Hart Transportation Division. Howie speaking."

"Hi Howie. This is Fred in the Science lab. Could you tell me if Spike picked up a car today?" She asked calmly belying the fact that she was balling her other hand with tension.

"Yeah, he drove off with the Viper just around lunch time." Howie said matter of factly.

"Thanks Howie." Fred hung up the phone. "Damn!" Fred said to herself as her hand still rested on her phone. She should not have let that emergency in the lab sidetracked from examining Spike. There was still a question if there was any remaining effect of his transformation from yesterday. She should have known that Spike would not wait all day. Biting her lower lip in worry, she marched out of the science lab.

"Angel, we have a problem." Fred said as she walked into Angel's office, clearly upset. "Spike was able to slip out without me examining him. He managed to fake a release, so he was issued a car. He's been gone since lunchtime. Anything could happen to him."

"Okay, Fred. We don't know if there's anything wrong." Angel said, trying to calm the pretty scientist. "We'll just call him up. In worst case, we'll use the tracking system on the car to find him."

Angel punched in the number for Spike's cell into his desk phone. He left it on speakerphone. It rang about four times, before it was picked up.

"Angel! What a surprise!" Spike chirped happily

"Spike, get back here! You were not to leave the premises without Fred examining you." Angel commanded.

"You sound a trifle upset. Angry that I slipped the leash?" Spike responded, clearly enjoying the conversation.

"Spike, this is Fred. It is very important that you return as soon as possible." Fred said with the concern evident in her tone.

"Sorry, kitten. I just wanted to follow up on a case of mine." Spike answered in a contrite manner. "I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"Spike, return to the office NOW!" Angel angrily demanded.

"Sorry, mate. You're breaking up. I couldn't hear that last part." Spike said with a grin and pulling the phone away from his ear.

"SPIKE!" Angel yelled at the phone.

The line went dead. Grumbling, Angel pushed another button on the console.

"Harmony, please enable the tracer on the Viper. I want to pin down Spike's location" Angel directed the ditzy assistant.

"Okay, Boss. Give me a second here…" Harmony responded. "He's just outside Santa Barbara."

Angel disconnected the line and turned to Fred, who was displaying her unease in twisting Spike's forged document in her hands.

"See, Fred. We're probably just jumping to the worst possible conclusions." Angel said as he patted her shoulder. "That sounded like the old Spike. Probably, nothing out of the ordinary going on."

"Probably….I just don't like it that he left before I got a chance to examine him. AND he's all alone out there, he doesn't have any back up." Fred said, sounding like a mother who left her child at daycare for the first time.

"Okay, Fred. I'll send a team after him. Just to check everything out. Okay?" Angel said as he turned toward his console.

"Okay. I don't feel good about this." Fred gave a little smile, but the worry did not disappear from her face as she said. "He was so little and vulnerable yesterday. I can't stop worrying about him. Promise you'll let me know if anything happens."

….

Over at Caritas, Lorne was standing behind the bar when Angel came in.

"Hello, Crumbcake. Where's the luscious little Blondie tonight?" Lorne said greeting Angel while wiping down the bar.

"He's out on a case." Angel responded, holding up two fingers for his regular.

"Oh, that's too bad. I really wanted to check out his aura tonight. It was so bright last night, I thought I would have to break out that eighties song, 'Sunglasses at Night' out of my repertoire. Remember that one? One of the old standards." Lorne said, reminiscing as he placed the drink in front of Angel.

"Yeah, I remember." Angel said, rolling his eyes as he brought his drink up to his lips.

"It was too bad he didn't stay longer. He was sparkling like a jewel last night at the bar. I was surprised he called it quits so early. He usually drinks at least ten beers just to feel anything, but he quit after three. Something going on with him?" Lorne said as he leaned across the bar, to hear the dirt.

"We had a little trouble with a stone yesterday at the firm. It turned Spike into a four year old for most of the day. He was quite the little hooligan." Angel recounted, smiling. "I really can't remember the name of the stone, I think it started with a Q."

"A Stone that start with a Q, huh? A stone that makes you younger….It wasn't a Quavolchan stone, was it?" Lorne stammers as he pulls back from Angel.

"Yeah, that's it" Angel responds, not noticing Lorne's reaction.

"Bu …But Spike wasn't a four year old when he came in here last night. Tell me more?" Lorne leans forward again

"Yeah, that because we got the stone working again, and he was turned back into an adult." Angel says with a shrug.

"So, he was exposed to a Qualvolchan stone spiral twice in one day? I hope you're keeping an eye on him" Lorne says as a worried look creeps across his face.

"Well, Spike managed to sneak out, but everything seems to be okay. We're sending some staff to keep an eye on him. He's out on a case right now." Angel states, nonchalantly

"What? He's working right now on a case?" Lorne exclaims. "You got problems…BIG problems, Angelcakes."

"What do you mean?" Angel looked up into the musical demon's face.

"The use of a Quavolchan stone so close together usually means that there is a residual energy build up in the being. And that's in a living being…In a vampire, it is all just probably sitting there ready to go off." Lorne explained.

"What do you mean energy?" Angel asked, beginning to look more and more concerned.

"That particular kind of stone create an energy spiral. That's what probably changed him yesterday, That spiral has been internalized in Spike. That is why his aura was blazing away last night. You usually don't see anything that bright except on the really young. It was that energy was just sitting beneath the surface." Lorne said, shaking his head.

"What sets it off? What can we do?" Angel stood up and urgently asked the demon.

"Any kind of excitement, upset or physical activity could cause it to go off. If you can get a hold of Spike as an adult, I would tranquilize him for the week until the energy dissipates. If you get him after the energy has reignited, I hope you know some good kindergartens. You better get hold of him fast, who knows what could happen." Lorne warned the brunette vampire.

"Which means?" Angel asked, dreading to hear the answer.

"That Spike could be in the middle of a battle and suddenly turn into child again without warning." Lorne explained with deadly seriousness.

Angel immediately pushed away from the bar and walked quickly to the door as he picked up his cell phone.

"Wes! Grab the team and meet me at the garage level. We got a problem with Spike. Get Harmony to report the Viper's last location. Also, contact the team we sent after him, tell them this is a Priority Code One Red rescue." Angel said urgently into the phone as he charged out the door.

…..

Spike had parked the Viper at the edge of the San Luis dockyards. He watched the dockworkers leave as the sun went down. Once darkness had firmly settled, he left the vehicle to check out the container that his contacts had informed. Spike moved stealthily down the dock, winding his way between the rusty, banged up containers. He finally got to the area that held the containers offloaded today from the large freighters were located. He compared the numbers on the containers to the one written on his notes. He located the large container he was looking for. As he walked to the end, he noticed that the doors were open and gently bouncing back against the container.

"Damn!" Spike swore as he thought he was too late to corner the Asgexhr creature in the container. "Oh well, I could use the work out anyway."

Just then, a huge mottled arm swung against his face. Spike was thrown back against the ground. He looked up into the seven foot heavily muscled creature standing over him. Looking up into the face that resembled a cross between a tree frog and a boar, Spike brought up his hand and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Well, this evening was going to turn out to be entertaining, after all.' Spike thought as he slightly chuckled and kipped back to a standing position.

As the huge ugly creature began circle him, Spike followed him with his eyes measuring his opponent. He bounced back and forth on his heels, measuring the threat of the Asgexhr before him, Spike suddenly leapt forward with a few round house blows to the creature's head. Beside its head slightly flinching, the creature did not seem to feel any pain from Spike's blows. The Asgexhr caught Spike's arm in the last blow in its vice like grip and stood there for a moment. Spike looked up into the creature's face as he realized that his blows had little effect on the creature. His eyes widened on his face as he felt himself being picked up and thrown thirty yards away at the end of the pier. Spike crashed at the end of the dock a few feet from the edge, laying dazed for an instant. Spike shook his head as he felt something unordinary than just the results of a fight on his person. Something odd was going on, there was more going on than just the physical pain, there was a buzzing around him. Deciding to ignore the persistent vibration, Spike pulled himself to his feet. For an instant, he felt…what..an energy bouncing around inside him.

Shaking it off, Spike pulled his fists in front of him readying for another bout with the creature. He noticed that the duster seemed to be in his way. It seemed to be hindering him from moving. Funny, it was almost like it didn't fit anymore. Without thinking, he quickly pulled it off and tossed it over to the side on some crates. The Asgexhr stormed toward Spike who was now cornered at the end of the pier.

"All Right, bloke! Let's do this proper, shall we?" Spike taunted, addressing the advancing creature.

'Did my voice sound higher?' Spike thought.

Just as the lumbering Asgexhr closed the last twenty feet, the air was suddenly filled with the sounds of guns being cocked and little red lasers appeared on the body of the monster. Recognizing that sound, Spike briefly looked up to the sky with disappointment. He was hoping that he could work off the extra energy. Now, the Wolfram and Hart squad had crashed the party, that was the end to his good time. The monster halted and seeing the red lasers, spun around. As it did so, it flung out an arm which crashed into Spike. Spike was knocked off his feet, hitting his head on the edge of the pier as he tumbled into the dark water below.

…..

A little over an hour later, Angel's Corvette rumbled to a stop beside the parked Viper. He was followed by a black Mercedes SUV carrying Wes, Fred and Gunn. The Wolfram and Hart advance team had already subdued the creature and were busy finishing up securing it in the containment wagon. Angel and the team rushed out to look for Spike. The lead of the advance team approached Angel.

"Sir, you'll be glad to know that we're able to contain the creature." The lead man reported to Angel

"That's good. Where's Spike?" Angel said, looking over at the area beyond the man.

"I believe the last time Spike was spotted was on the pier." The man said as he pointed down the aisle between the containers. Angel and the team rushed through the myriad of containers down to the pier. Their heads whipping about, and calling Spike's name. Angel was the first to arrive at the end of the pier. Sniffing the night air, Angel turned around to the team.

"He was here, but his trail ends here." Angel exclaimed as he began scouring the area around the dock with his eyes.

Fred slowly moved over to a stack of crates where she picked up Spike's duster from where he had thown it.

"He wouldn't have left this behind, would he?" Fred said with some nervous trepidation.

"No, he wouldn't." Wes answered, looking at Fred's worried face.

…..

In the middle of the night, several miles off shore, a small commercial fishing boat pulled in the body of a small child from the icy current. It was a small boy with curly blond hair who was clad only in an adult black tee shirt. The crew gathered around the small body that was so still and cold. No one could make a sound due to the sadness of the occasion. The first mate turned around and retrieved a fire blanket from the hold. He bent down and wrapped it around the small form. Once the child was completely wrapped up, he picked up the body in his arms. Looking at the face for a few moments before he flipped the blanket over the face. Putting his fingers under the child's chin, he turned the face toward him.

Just as he did that, the child's eyes opened up. Spike flung himself forward as he spewed two lungfuls of water over the deck.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The first mate rewrapped semi-conscious Spike in the coarse fire blanket as he began to carry the child toward the wheelhouse. There was an indention beside the ship's wheel that held a small door. The first mate went down the first steps and used the side of his body to open it. He ducked under the doorway as he guided the precious bundle in his arm into the area below deck. It was a large laviously decorated office below deck. There was a soft plush white carpeting that so soft that it was similar to walking in mashed potatoes. There was a large purple velvet sofa underneath a large painting of a Venetian gondola against one wall which was bookended with a large gold and beige patterned Georgian chairs. In the center was a shiny black onyx coffee table. Across the room, was a large desk about the size of a dining room table that would seat eight comfortably. You could see the six inch wide gilded arched arms that supported the heavy glass top. Behind it was a very large black leather chair that was turned away from the door. The occupant was engrossed in watching the six television screens in the wall. The screens were displaying images of divers that were below the surface scouring an ancient wreck.

The chair turned slightly as the occupant heard the door open. A man in the chair was not so physically big but gave an impression of sheer power that oppressed the room with his presence.

"What are you doing, Smolin?" The man darkly glowered toward the man gently carrying the small bundle. "I thought you were on deck supervising the operations?"

"We found something." As the man came toward the desk, with Spike in his arms. " It's a child. We thought he was dead, but he surprised us. I wanted to bring him in here to warm up, he's so cold."

The man in the chair looked over at Spike and made a sneering sound.

"Fine. He can stay, but I am not playing babysitter. You take care of him." The man stated and then warned. " Don't let him become a distraction. We're very close to success. If the child becomes nuisance, I have no problem with putting him back where we found him."

Ten minutes later, Spike found himself laying in the corner of the purple velvet couch. He was still wrapped papoose style in the blanket, so he could not freely move his arms and legs. Through his half closed eyes, he looked around the room from his vantage point. He saw the garish furniture, the wall of televisions and he heard a gruff,gravely voice with an eastern European accent loudly talking into an intercom on the other side of a large black chair.

"Where? Who?.." Spike slowly blinked as he breathed the words took a great effort, but was barely audible

"Hush. Here. I brought you some hot chocolate. Do you want to try it? " A whisper cut through the confusion in Spike's mind. A tall man at down and reached behind Spike's head and slowly slid behind him, pulling him forward and propping him up to sip the hot drink. The man pressed the edge of the cup to Spike's lips and carefully tilted it. Spike took a small sip that was followed by a slighter larger one. He did not stop sipping until the cup had been drained dry.

"That's good. Do you have the little marshmallows?" A fuzzy headed Spike asked innocently.

"I don't think we do. I'll have to check. Do you want some more?" Smolin asked gently.

Spike nodded as the exhaustion returned, his eyes seemed to close again of their own volition. He was having a terrible time waking up. The sugar from the chocolate was helping, but he could still feel himself being dragged back into an exhausted sleep.

The tall man returned with another cup and the process repeated itself. This time, Spike was more leisurely consuming the drink. He was taking pauses as he looked at the man and around the room. As Spike was a third of the way through this cup, the occupant in the black chair on the other side of the room demanded that all underwater teams return to the boat. The black chair viciously spun around in the next instant and a arm cleared the desk lamp and papers off the desk.

"Damn it to Hell! Look at the time! We're so close. I am not going to give up until I have that damn thing in my hands! Taras Golovchenko does not fail!" The man shouted in his Russian tinted English.

"Heya, Boss…" Smolin said as he was still holding the cup up to Spike's face. He looked at the man in the chair and tilted his head toward Spike, indicating there was a child in the room.

"I don give a f…. He's just lucky we don't toss him back overboard." Taras steamed as he cleared the remaining items on his desk.

His face dark with fury, Taras's eyes glared at the small face that was watching him with interest. There was no fear in the child's face, just a wise beyond his years intelligence. Taras found himself surprised. His usual volatile diatribe frightened all his men and sent them scurrying. The child regarded him in a calm and thoughtful gaze. Taras thought this child could grow up to be quite a man, a man that would bend the world to his needs.

"So, You! What are we going to do with him?" Taras demanded of Smolin and then turned on the child. " What is your name, child?"

Spike blinked a couple of times. He had been so caught up in the emotional display that he had not given thought to his own predicament.

"My..my name… My name is …I don't know." Spike stammered as he looked up with wide confused eyes.

What would have come out as second nature had stopped Spike cold. He couldn't remember his own name. He began to search his memory hoping for one thing to link to another, but all he had were flashes. Flashes of faces, and other things that weren't so pleasant. It didn't make any sense. He tried again to search his memory when a vision of a mottled color monster suddenly came to the forefront of his mind making him shudder. He didn't want to dwell too much on that image.

"Don't play with me, child. You'll find that I do not abide liars. Do you know what we do with little boys that lie? We cut off their noses, so everyone can see that they can't be trusted." Taras threatened. " Are you that kind of boy?"

"No.. Yes…I don't know! I'm tired. I can't remember!." Spike whined and put down his head and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

"Boss, we did pull him out of the Alaskan current. It was like he was dead when we first pulled him out. The cold could be playing tricks with his brain." Smolin explained to his boss. "He is still really cold to the touch."

"Bah! When we reach the dock, drop him somewhere where the authorities can find him. I don't want anything to affect our operation here." Taras commanded as he turned to go back to his desk.

"One thing, Boss, you said your name right in front of him. Kids latch on to things. He might mention it to the authorities about you being on a boat." Smolin stated. He, then went on to proffer. "I think we should hold off on giving him to the police untll we get the object. It can't be too much longer."

"So you are proposing to get rid of the child?" Taras said slowly and added with a grin. "You surprise me, Smolin."

"No nothing like that. I was thinking of taking him home and having my wife look after him with our kids. He wouldn't stand out too much." Smolin offered as he looked at the little boy sleeping there.

"Alright. Just make sure that he doesn't prattle to the authorities." Taras waved away at him.

"Believe me boss. By the time, the authorities get a hold of him, he'll be so mixed up that they won't believe him. I'll have my wife fill him up with fairy stories with your name, so he'll make no sense when he talks to the police." Smolin grinned as he added. "He's just a little kid. Little kids believe what we tell-em. Even if he does remember, they won't believe him. We'll be long gone if they ever do."

…..

It was about an hour before sunrise, when the boat docked at the pitch black landing. A few spot lights came on and illuminated a large black limo that was waiting there. There was a swarm of activity as the men on the boat began to put away the equipment used on the expedition. In a dark silk suit with a lilac colored tie, Taras walked down the plank in a masterly manner. Smolin was a few feet behind him with an unconscious Spike who was still wrapped in a blanket pressed against his shoulder. Taras turned around to speak to Smolin, when suddenly the door of the limo flew open. A mature, voluptuous bleached blonde charged out of the limo dressed in a too tight vibrant pink cocktail dress.

"TARAS! Surprise, Baby! I thought I would make a special trip to meet you on our anniversary. Are you surprised?" As the woman wrapped her arms around the man who was several inches shorter than she was. "Happy Nineteenth anniversary! I got all your favorites the car. Champagne, Cognac, caviar, Cuban cigars." Then she whispered in his ear. " I even got those special items that you like so much!"

Taras looked over at Smolin and the men who were frozen in place with shock at the affectionate display that their stern boss was involved. On the other hand, Taras' mind was reeling. He had forgotten it was his anniversary. Shirley, his wife was someone who was particularly vindictive in her revenge when she felt slighted. He did not want to admit to her that he had forgotten their anniversary but it was going to be obvious when he had no gift to give her in exchange. He gritted his teeth as he reached up to unwrap her arms from around his neck.

"Shirley, zaychik moy. I am really not prepared to celebrate right now. If you would give me a little time, I have something very special for you." Taras said slowly, avoiding his wife's eyes.

Shirley's eyes narrowed at Taras as she studied his reaction.

"You forgot! I always knew you were a bastard, Taras, but I can't believe that you would expect me to think that some trivial piece of jewelry that you're going to pick up this afternoon is going to make up for it. I know how you feel about me." Shirley put a hand to her forehead, and continued her rant. "Your mother doesn't let a day go by without reminding me of how I have failed as a woman in our marriage. She wanders around asking where her grandchildren are. I can't take it! If you don't value me either, then I think I should just go away! Your mother would be more than happy to set you up with one of the fertile daughters of her friends from her Russian Canasta group."

Taras stepped forward and placed his hand on Shirley's waist as he used the other to turn her face toward him.

"Laskovaya Moya. You are the only person in the world for me. I couldn't live if you left me. You would take the joy out of the world for me if I couldn't see your face every day. " Taras pleaded with Shirley, who angrily shirked at every affectionate gesture he made.

Taras knew that living with his mother wasn't easy. Shirley had been working the coat check room at a little club in LA when he first arrived. He was surprised that so glamorous a woman would pay any attention to a short poverty striken Russian immigrant, but Shirley always made time to talk to him and listen to his plans. She was the mainstay of his belief in himself. With her by his side, he believed he could do anything and so she was the source of his success. He couldn't stand for her to be unhappy. Looking over at Smolin who still had the blanket wrapped child in his arms, an idea surfaced in Taras' mind that would resolve both situations.

"Dorogaya moya, Moyo zolotse. I had wanted to wait to get everything set up for your special surprise, but you caught me. I know that your heart has been so heavy because there are no children in the house. That is why I brought you this." Taras held his arm to the bundle in Smolin's arms.

Shirley looked doubtfully at Taras. Taras smiled and nodded reassuringly at her. There wasn't anything he would deny his Shirley.

"Go. Go see." Taras said, moving his arm around her waist to move her toward Smolin.

Smolin stood stock still, his eyes sending a question to Taras, who just smiled knowingly and nodded. Smolin raised his eyebrows and sighed.

Shirley cautiously made her way over to Smolin. She looked back at Taras who held up his arm and motioned for her to continue. Shirley looked at the bundle in Smolin's arms, looking at it up and down. Going up on her toes, she pulled back the top edge of the blanket. She found herself staring into a bunch of blonde curls on top of a small head. She leaned around to look at the small angelic face that was asleep on Smolin's shoulder. She looked back at Taras with tears of happiness in her eyes. She ran over and kissed and hugged Taras heartily. Wiping the tears on her face, she immediately returned to Smolin and began to put her hands around the child.

"Here. Give me the baby." She quietly demanded of Smolin, who released his burden into her arms.

Once she had Spike in her arms, she swooped back into the limo with him. She sat on the back of the seat, as she cradled him on her lap. She pushed back the blanket to see his face clearly. Her eyes moved down from the top of his head to the end of his chin, memorizing his face.

Taras slowly entered the limo, watching the scene before him. He had never seen his wife so happy. So what if they kept the child, it brought her happiness. He was only a little thing who couldn't remember. Before long, he would only know that he was the son of Taras Golovchenko.

Just then, Spike slowly opened his eyes and looked at the woman holding him. He wasn't sure if he was really awake. She didn't seem to be a threat; in fact, she was looking at him quite affectionately.

"What's your name?" The woman asked slowly and gently as her fingers fussed with the blanket under his chin.

"I'm...I'm tired." Spike mumbled as he allowed sleep to claim him once again.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Downside of Elemental Dieseling**

Author: Nickeltaffy

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…These characters are Joss's. I don't own them, never did and never will. Thanks for the loan, Joss.

…..

Chapter 3

As Angel and his team forcefully came through the door at Wolfram and Hart, he barked out orders to his team.

"I want reports from the teams in San Luis every half hour on the status of the search in the dockyards. I want teams out in the bay scouring for his body. I want the Coast Guard radio monitored for any mention of rescue of man or child in that area." Angel commanded as he strode purposefully across the lobby.

Wes peeled off to ensure Angels' directives were completed; Angel marched into his office with Fred and Gunn following right behind him. Angel went behind his desk where he paused and put his hands on his hips while he looked down on the floor.

"Gunn, we're going to need identity documents on Spike if he has turned into a child and the authorities find him." Angel instructed the lawyer, not moving from his stance staring at the floor. "We'll have to provide something so they'll release him to us."

"It shouldn't be a problem. What should I list as his name? Who are we gonna say his parents are?" Gunn asked uneasily.

"Create an identity for him as four year old William O'Haleran. List me as his father." Angel said, and then with a small ironic smile added "You can list Joyce Summers as his mother. He always felt special toward her."

"You got it, boss." Gunn said determinedly and spun to leave the office.

Taking a moment, Angel rubbed his hand over his face as he tried to push down the panic he found rising up inside him. He was swimming in self incrimination about how cavalier he had been when he had heard Spike had left the premises. He hated to think that the small child that he had carried in his arms only yesterday was now alone and cast adrift in the world by himself.

His heard turned when he heard a small sob from over by the sofa in his office. He looked back to see Fred standing there, with a desolate expression her face. She slowly moved with stilted steps toward the desk.

"Please tell me we're going to find him. I need someone to tell me that everything is going to be okay." Fred quietly pleaded as she stroked the black leather coat that was folded over her arm.

Moving around the desk, Angel came forward and wrapped his arms around Fred. He cradled the back of her head in his hand as he held her against him. He could feel the small hitches in her breath as she tried to repress her increasing distress.

"Shhh. We're going to find him. He is going to be okay." Angel said as he tried to dissuade her fears. "He'll be back here before we know it, doing his best to make me miserable."

...

As the limo neared the edges of Los Angeles, Taras looked over at his wife who was smoothing the blanket around the sleeping child she was slowly rocking. He could hear her humming a lullaby under her breath as she rested her cheek against the blonde curls. He congratulated himself on thinking so quickly at the boat. This is the best present he had ever given her. So what if the child was not his to give, that had never stopped him before. Besides, the child had been pulled lifelessly out the ocean. Whoever had tossed him there surely considered him dead by now. If there were people looking for the child that could be a problem. He had to make sure that the child was kept out of sight for the time being before he could make arrangements. He had to think of a story, so the women of his family would abide with keeping the child hidden from the authorities.

"Yah, He is a most cute little thing, isn't he?" Taras commented to his wife.

"He's the most adorable thing I've ever set eyes on." Shirley gushed, as she nuzzled the top of Spike's head

"Shirley, I must tell you something about this child. He is the son of an associate of mine. He asked to take care of his child, if he was killed. He was killed a few days ago. I was supposed to pick up his child from a boat tonight. When I arrived at the meeting point, there was only wreckage floating in the water. There had obviously had been a bomb on the boat." Taras paused and sighed heavily, gratified to watch the rapt attention in his wife's eyes. He continued. "The child was found clinging to a piece of the wreckage. He must have been thrown clear when the bomb went off. Unfortunately, he spent too long in the frozen current before we got there. I believe it might have affected his memory. It was an awful event; I would not press him on what he remembers."

Shirley made a slight sound as her eyes filled with tears as she looked down quickly at the child's face. Tightening her grip, she pulled the child to her in a desperately protective gesture.

"I believe the child may still be in danger." Taras continued. "It is important that he not be seen outside of the penthouse. Can you promise me that you won't allow him outside till I say it is okay?"

"You mean that he's in danger? Of course, I'll do anything to keep this child safe." Shirley said in a shocked voice. "Whatever you say, my great big fuzzy bear."

The limo pulled into the parking garage under Taras' building. Taras and Shirley who was carrying her precious bundle entered his private elevator that took them directly up to their sumptuous penthouse. Shirley smiled over at Talas as they rode up facing the elevators, her hand patting the back of the child in her arms. The doors opened to a penthouse that decked out in the same taste that characterized his office on the boat. There was a mixture of Georgian, Modern and Louis the XVI décor in metallic, black and fuchsia. It was punctuated with large overblown oil paintings and statues that did nothing to better the impression; but in fact, made it worse.

Waking and lifting his head from the shoulder he was draped against, Spike shakily turned his head to see who was holding him. The woman's overly made up face grinned back at him crazily. He pulled back his head and blinked several times to clear his vision, not quite believing what his eyes were telling him. Seeing that the child was awake, Shirley gently pulled back the blanket and lowered him to the plush carpet.

"Welcome to your new home." She whispered as she bent over to keep her head level with his to see his reaction.

Spike staggered until he got his bearings, he turned away from the woman to take in the surroundings. His forehead wrinkled, as the garish decorations assaulted his senses as he slowly spun in astonishment. He had never seen anything so hideous; it was like an open hand slap to his senses. Just then, he felt the floor vibrate rhythmically under his feet as a mountainous figure came down the hallway.

"Taras, Dorogoy! It is so good to have you home." The bulky woman's rough voice called out as her firm strides carried her closer to the new arrivals. Upon reaching the small group, she looked down and said "Ach! What is this? What did you bring me?"

Spike's eyes slowly climbed over the gargantuan being towering over him. He wasn't sure it was human till he got to her face which held a distinct resemblance to Taras'. He stood stock still as he had a flash memory to a huge demon. His face betraying confusion and shock as he took a step back.

"Hello, Sohlneeshkah. What is your name?" She said with a vastly different voice that was much gentler and calmer.

"Yes, Yes. That is good. We are going to call him Sonny while he is here." Talas stated as he hear his mother call Spike sunshine.

"Um." Spike was only able to make that sound to dispute that Sonny wasn't his name before he was cut off by Shirley's protective instinct.

"Mamushka, he's had a difficult time. He's come to stay with us for a while. I think he needs some special care." Shirley piped up as she placed an arm around Spike's middle.

Just then, Shirley realized how cold Spike was to the touch. Before he knew it, the two women flew into a maternal flurry about him. Before he could protest, he found himself in a hot bath, dressed in a man's flannel pajama top and sitting at a table with a steaming bowl of bracingly fragrant soup in front of him. The two women were perched on each side of him making sure that the soup got inside him. Sitting on top of two phone books, Spike looked over the edge of the bowl and wrinkled his nose.

"It's got vegetables." Spike complained as he looked disappointedly in the bowl of soup.

"Well, maybe I can get you something else." Shirley commiserated as she began to turn to get himself something else.

"What are you saying? He's a child. It is not up to him to decide." Turning to Spike, Mamushka pronounced. "You will eat the soup."

Spike realizing that he may have better luck with Shirley, he turned toward her. When suddenly, he felt a meaty hand grab his chin and turn his face toward Mamushka. His mouth opened automatically with the motion and suddenly a spoonful of the soup was placed inside.

Spike sat there in shock, but soon the taste of the onion based soup began to swirl in his mouth. A memory came to the front of his mind. He wasn't sure what it reminded him of. It was just on the edge of his memory…an onion thing. Whatever it was, he knew he liked it. His hand came up to grasp the spoon in his fist from Mamushka. He soon leaned over to spoon more of the delicious soup in his mouth as the women smiled at his reaction.

"See. He just needed to try it." Mamushka said confidently as she released the spoon. "It is good soup. It is good for the chest and will keep the pneumonia away."

Gratified, the women watched the little boy diligently consume the soup. After a few minutes, they saw the eyelids droop as Spike was still recovering from his transformation and long sabbatical in the freezing water. His head was bouncing forward, just inches from the soup bowl as he tried unsuccessfully to stay conscious.

The next thing Spike knew was that he woke up buried under several blankets on top of a large bed. The room had heavily ornate draperies closed over the windows, keeping out the sunlight, but Spike could tell it was late afternoon. He was still confused. This place was wrong. He knew that he wasn't supposed to be here. He had to get out of here and back to where he belonged. There were people waiting for him…somewhere. The names escaped him, but he still could fuzzily remember faces. He wrestled himself out of bed and without thinking, made his way clumsily to the front door. When he closed his hand on the doorknob, he heard a woman's Russian accent cut through the air

"Moy Myedvyezhohnahk, where do you think you're going?" Mamushka stood in the hallway, with an apron tied around her waist and her sleeves rolled up. She had obviously been cooking in the kitchen.

"I have to leave" Spike answered simply, as he began to sleepily yank on the door.

"Where do you have to go, Moy sladkiy?" Mamushka smoothly countered, careful not to upset the child as she slowly approached the child.

"Um…I don't know. This isn't the right soddin place." Spike rubbed his head, trying to order his thoughts. He could almost grasp the name of the place he wanted to go, but it kept escaping him at the last instant.

"Well, you come with me right now. You don't have any clothes anyway. Aunt Shirley has gone to get you some. Maybe you can remember later and can go then? " Mamushka reached down and wrapped her hand around Spike's wrist in such a manner that left little for discussion.

Spike soon found himself sitting at the kitchen table where Mamushka had been busy cooking and had several items spread out on the table. Spike sat there and noticed a liter container filled with a red liquid. The smell was delicious and it kept drawing his attention while he sat there. Finally, Mamushka turned away to the stove, Spike reached over and picked up the container and quickly drained it. Mamushka turned around and saw him with the container upended over his face.

"Oh! Stop! You shouldn't drink the blood. I was making kroyvanka with it." Mamushka cried out as she put down the spoon she was holding.

She ran around and pulled the container away from Spike's overly content face. She looked in the container and saw there was only about a tablespoon left. Mamushka looked over at Spike who was now sporting a blood mustache. He smiled as he ran his tongue over his upper lip, thoroughly relishing the flavor. She looked at him; he didn't seem to be worse for wear. Sighing, she grabbed a kitchen towel to wipe his mouth.

The intake of blood in Spike's system seemed to have a miraculous effect. His mind suddenly cleared. He remembered his name and that he was vampire. He stared dumbly up at the huge woman hovering over him, wiping his face. After she finished, he looked around and saw that everything appeared much bigger than normal. Looking down he saw that his body was much smaller, so much smaller that his feet were dangling over the edge of the chair. He was sitting there wearing a man's flannel pajama top like a nightshirt. It was unreal!

"I'm…I'm little!" He said in astonishment.

"What are you saying, Angel moy? You are a big boy!" Mamushka pulled the towel away after wiping his mouth and crushed a kiss on top of his head as she turned to go back to the stove. The force of the kiss left Spike reaching at the table for support as he sat there in stupefaction, staring at the large woman walking away.

The affectionate gesture from a stranger disconcerted Spike as he tried to grasp the situation he found himself in. How did he end up being stuck in a four year old's body he asked himself. Wait a minute, that story they were telling him at the meeting-could it be true? 'Well, seeing is believing, mate!' he told himself as he documented the state of his physical being. His mind was suddenly brimming with other questions: What was he doing here? Who were these bleedin people? Where were Angel and the AI team? And where the bloody hell was his coat?

In the next instant, Shirley made her grand triumphant entrance into the kitchen surprising the pair at the table. She had several bags swinging from each hand, each bearing a different emblem from the most exclusive designer shops in LA. She couldn't wait to play dress up with her new little boy who sat there, looking at her bewildered. Before Spike knew it, she had swept him back to the guest room where she dressed him in the most ghastly designer clothes he had ever seen for a child. She ended up dressing a ridiculous outfit that had loud shiny purple raw silk jumpsuit with swooping gold chains and odd bits of fringe. He felt like a sadly bereft clown that the circus had left behind. Shirley was clearly overjoyed with the result. Wanting to show off her creation, she dragged him across the penthouse over to Taras' office.

She burst in the office with a reluctant Spike while Taras was in the middle of a meeting with his officers. Taras held up his hand to halt the meeting when Shirley and Spike appeared. Closing his eyes in mortification, Spike was begrudgingly standing there dressed as a buffoon, on display for the adults in the room. Time seemed to slow down as he stood there; Spike raised his eyes and noticed the images on the far wall.

There were several television screens at the end of the room that held images. One had a colorful abstract image of the California coast near San Luis with red dots indicating search sites. Another screen held an image of an ancient drawing of what looked to be an urn covered in writing. A screen below it held an enlargement of the writing on the urn. It was in Fyarl, a demon language with which Spike was quite comfortable. As he read it, one eyebrow went up in alarm. What were these poofters messing with he asked himself.

"What the bloody hell?" Spike's loud childish voice cut through the office.

All the adults looked in shock at the small child standing next to woman at the sudden outburst. Feeling all the eyes in the room had turned to him, Spike realized his mistake in not monitoring his reactions. Not wanting to give himself away, he thought of the quickest way to diffuse the situation.

"Cartoons!" He proclaimed energetically as he pointed to the screen of California.

...

Wes walked into Angel's office with the disappointing results from the search teams at the docks to the team. He also reported that there was no report from the Coast Guard or any of the authorities in the area of any bodies being found in the vicinity in the last day. Wes continued to say that all the boats in the area registered with the Harbor Master had been checked out. No one had seen an adult or child size Spike in the last twenty four hours.

Angel looked up at Wes, pressing his lips together as he fighting the resignation that Spike may be well lost to them.

"Is there anything else?" Angel said, a small flame of hope still burning inside him.

"There is one thing that I noted that doesn't make sense." Wes turned on the projection screen over the conference table. "If you see here, this is a satellite picture taken of the area off San Luis at 2:43AM. You see here, this boat is not on the harbor master's registry."

"What does that mean?" Fred asked, not grasping the consequence.

"It means it is not supposed to be there." Wes said slowly. He manipulated the image on the screen as he continued. "If I refocus the image, you see there is something strange about this fishing vessel."

Everyone stared at the screen, looking for something strange to stand out.

"I don't see anything." Gunn commented as he stared at the screen

"If you look closely, you'll see there is a large crane at the end of the boat with a basket attached. It's the type of basket that is used for salvaging of especially delicate items, the type used in archeological expeditions." Wes reported to the group, in his low reflective voice. "They left a few hours before dawn. I don't know what they were doing, but it certainly wasn't fishing. Whatever they were doing, they didn't want anyone to know about it."

"I was able to get the name of the boat by focusing the photograph. It's the Ukraine Mermaid." Wes released the mouse and picked up a folder. "It is registered to Khazar Industries, a known cloak for the Russian Mafia in LA. The boss is Taras Golevchenko. He is a major player for the mob here in LA."

"Why are telling us this, Wes? " Angel said, letting his anxiety and impatience seep into his voice.

"Based upon the current patterns and time, it is very possible that this ship was likely to be in the correct area. We checked all the other vessels in the bay. This vessel left the area before sunrise, so it was not checked out." Wes put down the report and turned to the group. "It is very possible that they could have Spike."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Downside of Elemental Dieseling**

Author: Nickeltaffy

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…These characters are Joss's. I don't own them, never did and never will. Thanks for the loan, Joss.

…..

Chapter 4

Angel and his team began to set a plan on gathering information regarding the boat that may have pulled in Spike the night before. It was anchored at a remote dock an hour outside Los Angeles. Considering that the owner did not want to draw any attention to their clandestine activities, it was a good guess that the boat would there until dark. It was decided that someone needed to go and check out the boat for any sign of Spike. Standing, Gunn turned to the team as he pointed to the screen.

"Let me go. I know that area. I have some old members of my old group that are still in that area." Gunn stated firmly. "It shouldn't be too much of a problem to get the lowdown on what's going on at that ship."

…

Spike had been imprisoned many times since becoming undead, but he had never felt the oppression that he did sitting on that sofa just then. Spike found himself wedged between an overly affectionate and clinging Shirley and the domineering presence of a calmly knitting Mamushka on a large overstuffed sofa. On the opposite wall from the sofa, there was a large flat screen television displaying a mindless cartoon. Shirley was sitting there in an outfit that was bold in colorful print as it was in fit. Due to her unending fascination with the little boy, she had pulled up one knee on the sofa and had the elbow of her arm balanced on the sofa behind Spike. Shirley's fingers were busy wrapping themselves in Spike's curls as he did his best to hide his gritted teeth and feigned intense interest with the television. As he sat there, Spike's mind was whirling with questions originating from the situation he found himself in. He could smell the trouble brewing that office. Those shady characters seemed to give off a whiff of bad news, if he ever saw it, especially if there were messing with that urn. Spike decided that when he managed to get to Wolfram and Hart, he would let them handle this situation. But that was for later…for the time being, he sat there on the sofa like a cat cornered in a tree by two immense dogs.

Spike silently sighed as he ran a recap of what had happened in the office after he saw that picture of that urn. He had heard a gasping shriek from Shirley as she dragged him out of the office, apologizing to the men as she did it. Along the way to the game room, he was given a little lecture about appropriate words as an exasperated Shirley tugged him along. She told him that now that he was in this household, he should refrain from using the word 'H-E-double hockey sticks' at all times. It was a big person word and not for little boys. Spike's mouth unconsciously fell open in disbelief since it had been a really long time since he had been on the receiving end of a lecture on manners. The pair progressed across the penthouse when Shirley unexpectedly stopped. Bending down on to one knee and cupping his face in her hand, she addressed him looking directly into his face.

"Sugar Pie, I know this has been a difficult number of changes for you, but we're all here trying to make it better. Okay, Sonny?" she said. Then making a small sobbing sound as she brushed a stray curl back, she became emotional and folded him into her strongly perfumed embrace.

Finding himself being held in a strange blanketing hug, Spike cocked his head slightly to look at the woman embracing him, hearing the sound of the woman's less than successful attempt to control her welling emotions. "Bleeding women's tears…I have no defense against that. On top of that…who is Sonny?" Spike grumbled in his head, and then something stuck him odd. "Is..is that supposed to be me?"

So, here he found himself condemned by his own words in the office and sandwiched between these two monoliths of maternal glory, watching an insipidly age appropriate cartoon. Other than the sound of the cartoon program, there was no other sound than the gentle clicking noise coming from Mamushka's knitting needles as she systematically increased the item she was knitting. He could feel the weight of both women's eyes upon him. Under such close surveillance, that he would have to wait till tonight before he could make his break for freedom.

…

Gunn stopped his vehicle about three hundred yards away from the area of the docks behind some closely grouped trees. He had picked up his old buddies from the vampire hunting gang that lived in the area. Luckily, they still retained the ability to look like teenagers, albeit big scruffy looking ones. Prior to arrival, they had all agreed upon the plan to distract the guards on the Ukraine Mermaid, so Gunn could search it.

At the end of the dock by the water, one of the guards was sitting in a chair up on the boat's deck, while the other was aimlessly strolling in front of the boat on the dock. It had been an uneventful day, so they were bored and were chatting about some gossip about the gang. It was just then that they noticed two young scurrilous young men arrive at the other end of the dock. The supposed teenagers were dressed in typical teenage rebellion gear; one had a skateboard under one arm while the other was carrying a banged up looking backpack. Under the suspicious eyes of the guard, the guards watched the pair stop where the dock began. The backpack was set down and the seemingly teenage delinquents pulled out spray paint cans, giving a look around for anyone in the area.

The guard on the dock yelled and moved toward the young men, who brashly vaulted insults at the man. After a few choice insults, the guard began to run at the kids, who took off into the wooded area. One of the kids doubled back to the dock and was shaking the can of paint as he neared the boat. The guard on the boat jumped out of his chair, yelling at the kid chasing him away from the boat. Watching all this, Gunn was impressed that his friends had never lost their touch on the skills that allowed them to trap vampires as he moved swiftly down the dock.

Gunn smoothly and silently climbed aboard the Ukraine Mermaid. He was startled but not really surprised when he found Taras' office. He looked quickly around for anything that would indicate that they had found Spike. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, he went over to the desk, looking for the previous night's log. Finding and seeing no mention of Spike, Gunn let the log fall back to the desk. That's when he saw something interesting. He saw the drawing of the urn on the desk. He picked up his camera and took a few quick shots of it and other documents regarding it on the desk.

Realizing that the guards would be returning momentarily, Gunn swiftly departed the ship and returned to his vehicle. A moment later, the doors opened as his old friends jumped in with gratified smiles after reliving the old days. After dropping off his old friends, Gunn turned the car toward Los Angeles, disappointed that he was unable to find anything on Spike's whereabouts. He wasn't sure how he was going to tell Angel. On the other hand, Gunn reasoned that Spike could just come walking through the doors at the agency. He would always put money on that blonde vampire could beat the odds.

…..

It was just a little after 2:30AM when Spike slowly opened the door of the guest room where he had been listening to the household quiet down. Taras had left the penthouse around ten o'clock with his men. For the past hour, he had only heard the gentle breathing of Shirley and the louder snores of Mamushka. Having dressed in some of the less offensive clothes Shirley had purchased, Spike cautiously crept down the hall, and out to the living room to make his way toward the front door. He was just about to enter the entry hall when he realized his situation.

"Wait a minute. Look at me! I got the freakin body of a four year old. I'll be lucky to make a block before someone stops me." Spike thought. "It would be my soddin luck to be taken down to the police station. There's no way in hell I'm entering bleedin Child Welfare system. Buggar! I gotta get someone to meet me. Who? Fred! She'd do it! That girl's a corker! She wouldn't let a mate down. Where was the phone?" Spike looked quickly around but didn't see one. He knew there had to be one in Taras' office. It would also give him a chance to look over whatever that old git was up to. Whatever business he was conducting, it didn't look to be too savory from what he saw on his previous visit. "I'll give the info to the team and let them handle it while I am dealing with …well, this body image thing." Spike thought.

Spike quickly made his way to Taras' office. Opening the door and gently closing it, he made his way over the large desk, which had a large credenza behind it. Spike had just reached the area behind the desk, when he heard the front door open with Taras' joyously celebrating with his men. Spike looked around quickly when he heard the voices coming closer to the office. He spied a lower cabinet door that was slightly ajar. Opening it, he saw that it was plenty of space for his new smaller self inside the cabinet. He quickly sat inside and pulled the door to with his fingernails.

Taras and his men burst through the doors to the office, with huge self congratulatory grins on their faces. Taras was proudly holding the urn in front of him as he lead the procession of his men into the office. He called for his men to clear a spot in the center of his desk, so he could place the urn down. Two of the three burly looking men who accompanied Taras ran up and hurriedly moved the papers and other items to clear a spot. Spike could see Taras carefully put down the urn in the center of his desk from the crack in the cupboard door he had left. Once the urn was safely secure, Tara held his arms out to keep his men from leaning over and looking at it. He grasped his hands together in a greedy gesture as he turned to address his men and opened his mouth to memorialize the event.

Just then, a scream cut through the air. Then to Spike's horror, Shirley appeared at the doors to Tara's office. Her rollers hanging down in disarray as she clutched the robe matching baby doll peignoir to her chest.

"Oh Taras! He's gone! Sonny's gone! I can't find him anywhere!" Shirley cried with face red, tears just beginning to flow down her face as she flung herself at Taras. Taras, in the midst of be smothered by his larger wife, deftly snapped his fingers at his underlings to begin the search for the child.

Spike winced as he saw Taras send his troops out to locate him. He was trapped! Taras began to comfort his weeping wife by guiding her out of the office by wrapping his arm around her shoulders. On the way out of the office, Taras softly assured his weeping wife that the child would soon be located. Seeing that the coast was clear in the office, Spike silently got out of the cabinet and stood up behind the desk. He noticed that he was eyelevel with the relic sitting on the desk. He could now see the full inscription that was not on the drawing.

Translating the writing in Fyarl, it read:  
"Behold in tides of woe, the bringer of everlasting suffering. Cast not the essentia into the abandon. The heart blood of Pylean cow shall disenthrall the ascendancy of Hjorlian. The scion will swallow the world in his eclipse."

"Well, if that wasn't a "Danger. Do not open" warning if I ever bleedin saw one" thought Spike as he stared at the inscription. Spike's mind raced. " Wait…Pylea ..Lorne… Fred. Oh my God, didn't Fred say she was considered a cow there." Spike's mind reeled excitedly. "There was no way that git, Taras is going to hurt Fred. Not while I am around, that is."

Spike ducked down behind the desk as he heard the sound of adult footsteps coming toward the office. Relaxing as he heard the footsteps fade, Spike stood up decisively. He had to destroy that urn. Spike reached for the urn to smash it but it seemed to emanate a force field around it. He couldn't get his hands near it. Spike, then picked up a heavy paperweight from the desk and threw it at the urn. It was flung away from the urn bouncing off Spike's forehead. Rubbing the spot with his hand, it appeared that he wasn't going to be able to destroy it tonight. With a new determination, Spike now knew he couldn't leave. There was only one thing he could do- he had to stay close to that damn urn.

Now, what to do with this current situation? He would have more freedom if he was considered an innocent child. That meant he had to get back to that bedroom and fast. Due to his vampire hearing, he could tell the adults were scattered all over the large penthouse. Peaking out the office doors to make sure the coast was clear; he used his vampire speed to make a beeline for the guest bedroom. Once inside, he leaned back against the closed door, he let out a deep breath. He knew he couldn't be found back in the bed after such a commotion being made. He had to think fast. He could hear a sobbing Shirley coming back to his room. Then an idea hit him.

A clearly upset Shirley barged through the door, leading Taras and Mamushka into the room. Once she got to the bed, she turned around with her arm pointing the mess of sheets where Spike was supposed to be.

"See. He's gone. I came in here and he was gone!" Shirley wailed, with evidence of her tears still apparent on her face.

Mamushka looked at Shirley's emotional display with wise eyes. She took a step forward to the distraught woman and patted Shirley's arm for a few moments. Mamushka stood back and looked around the room; she then put a finger up to her lips. She walked silently over to the closet. Opening the door, she looked inside. She beckoned Shirley to come over. There on the floor was a little figure curled up asleep in the corner.

With his eyes closed while feigning sleep, Spike thought. "I hope they bleedin buy this!"


	5. Chapter 5

**The Downside of Elemental Dieseling**

Author: Nickeltaffy

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…These characters are Joss's. I don't own them, never did and never will. Thanks for the loan, Joss.

…

Chapter 5

With the location of the child, Shirley's manic emotional episode had finally subsided and peace began to settle once again in the penthouse. Taras was able to turn his thoughts back to the object in his office. Exiting the guest room, Taras signaled to his men to return to his office. They had to proceed with next step in releasing the power from the reliquary of Hjolrian they had brought up from the bottom of the sea.

"Smolin, contact the demon language expert. There is no time to lose. He must be here within hours." Taras commanded as he stormed into his office heading directly to the reliquary. "The alignment of the stars is almost upon us. It will create our only opportunity to release the Hjolrian within this millennia."

With an ardent nod, Smolin deftly picked up his cell phone from his jacket pocket and began to dial.

…

After sharing his less than stellar findings of his search of the boat for Spike, Gunn slammed down into a chair in the conference room with a grunt. As he watched the team digest the information or rather the lack of it, he repeatedly bounced the chair backwards, taking comfort from the activity. It hurt his heart to see how Fred's face fell when he reported the lack of new information on Spike. Angel looked at Gunn with solemn eyes before a mask of disinterest came slamming down, a second too late to all those who knew him. Even Wesley made a poor show of covering his disappointment as he cleared his throat and pulled back his chin in an attempt to project a more proper English air. Fighting his own despondency, Gunn was unconsciously spinning his phone with his fingertips between his hands.

"We're not giving up." Angel said determinedly as he walked around the table and put his arm around Fred. "We'll continue to monitor the police and coast guard chatter. I also want this Russian mob kingpin and his group tailed. Just because we didn't find a trace of Spike on their boat doesn't mean they don't have him."

Fred looked up at Angel and gave him a sad smile as she tried to put on a brave face. It did little to deceive anyone in the room about the mammoth worry that she was carrying inside her.

"While we're watching them, we may want to find out what they're planning to do with this." Gunn said, as he held up the phone and handed to Wes. "They seem to be very interested in finding this vase thing. There were papers and maps strewn all over the top guy's desk on the boat. I took a couple of photos of the documents on his desk."

"Right, we'll get right to toppling the mob boss after we locate Spike." Angel said as he tightened his arm around Fred. He pressed a kiss against Fred's hair and whispered to her. "Don't worry. We'll find him."

Plugging Gunn's phone into the access port on his laptop, Wesley had downloaded the pictures from Gunn's phone into the agency's computer. He began to run a cross check of the photos against the Wolfram and Hart's vast databanks.

"Just a moment, Angel. It seems that Taras Golovchenko may be dabbling in things quite unexpected for a typical mafia figure." Wesley's smooth voice cut through the air in the room.

With a click of a button in his keyboard, he brought the computer up on the screen for everyone to look at. It was a photo of the drawing of the urn that was Gunn had found on the desk on the boat. Suddenly, the screen had a red bar flashing across the top of the screen which stated 'RELIQUARY OF HJORLIAN-EXIGENCY WARNING: MUST REMAIN INVIOLATE'.

"Yeah, that would be a problem." Angel growled under his breath.

….

A little over half an hour later, Wes marched in through the doorway of Angel's office and up to his desk. Wes' body language indicated he did not have good news, Angel slowly raised his eyes

"There's been another development on Golevchenko." Wes said as stopped in front of Angel.

"Let me have it." Angel said as he sat back in his chair, bracing a hand on the armrest.

"Golevchenko's ship returned to the dock early." Wes said, flipping the latest satellite photographs on the desk in front of Angel. "I can only think of one thing that would have brought the ship in the middle of the night."

"They found what they were looking for." Angel acknowledged, looking up from the photographs.

"It appears so." Wes replied, in the slow pace that stated he was considering the impact of this latest development.

"So, what happens now?" Angel said as he tilted his head.

"This is an ancient artifact covered in Fyarl. From what I know of mobsters, they will need someone to decipher the writing. I am thinking they're going to need an expert." Wesley said with his hands on hips.

"So, where are they going to find an expert?" Angel asked, leaning forward and tilting his head up

"They already had. They were flying him in tonight. Too bad, that Wolfram and Hart commandeered his flight for a special mission to the Marshall Islands. He won't be available for a number of weeks." Wesley stated in a serious tone and then added with a slight grin of irony at Angel's raised eyebrows hearing about Wolfram and Hart's latest activity. "Golevchenko will just have to find another demon language expert to assist him with his project."

"You're thinking that YOU could be that expert." Angel interjected, following the train of thought.

"I've already put word out with our contacts that there is a demon language specialist visiting LA. I expect to hear from Golevchenko's people in the next few hours." Wes added with a slow grin spreading over his face.

"I see. Acting as the language export would be the perfect ploy to gain access to Golevchecko's most secure areas." Angel said as he nodded. "You could easily find out what this wise guy wants with this relic."

"Yes, it would also allow me to bring along an associate." Wes said, as he looked intently in Angel's eyes.

"You're expecting them to believe I am a scientist?" Angel said with a smirking grin.

"Don't be ludicrous. Of course not" Wesley stated as he watched Angel's grin fade. "You're going to be my bodyguard."

"Huh?" Angel said, taken aback.

"I believe that Golovchenko will only allow himself to be in the room while I am examining the reliquary." Wes countered. "All the non-essential personnel will have to wait outside. Everyone's attention will be on that room. That should give you ample freedom to explore."

"Explore for what?" Angel asked, perplexed.

"While I am examining the reliquary, it will allow you time to check for signs of certain person, say..Spike." Wes said pointedly.

….

Several hours later, it was morning, Spike cautiously opened an eye to find that he was once again ensconced in the large bed in the guest room. He felt a constant heavy pressure on his legs. Pushing up on one arm to see where the pressure was coming from, he saw that his legs were trapped under the head and shoulders of Shirley. She was sitting in a chair next to the bed with her head and arms on the bed. She had kept vigil at his bedside as if he really were a small child. Spike found himself a little touched by the gesture. Without thinking, he reached down and petted the pudding yellow hair with telltale dark roots on the woman's head. Sensing the sensation on her head, Shirley's hand came up dazedly grasping at the air until it landed on Spike's small hand. The large hand patted it a few times before holding it gently. She raised up her head and looked sleepily into his face. The lack of makeup showed all the imperfections in her face that came along with age and hard living, yet her eyes were extremely kind. Seeing the gentle and benevolent soul in her eyes, Spike smiled at her and thought she looked radiant.

…..

Later, Spike looked down at himself and groaned at his preposterous attire. He was now wearing his third outfit of the day and the morning was not halfway over yet. Looking down at his clothes, Spike wasn't comfortable at the latest ensemble, but it was better than the others so far. Shirley seemed sweet but all her fashion choices were based upon the concept everyone should dress as if they were part of a bombastic cruise boat musical. Thinking back, it turned to be quite entertaining to think of ways to destroy the overpriced, over designed outfits. The first outfit which made him resemble some kind of brain damaged toy soldier had fallen victim to the ink of a broken pen which Spike made sure got over his clothes. The next outfit which looked like it belonged to a liturgical dancer was soon decorated with the strawberry jam on the piece of toast from breakfast. It was just too tragic that the jam got smeared all the way down the front of his flowing primary colored shirt and pants before he was able to catch it. Now, he was dressed in a teal T-shirt decorated with gold lame flames. The front of the shirt was emblazoned with a random ultra chic Italian designer's name that he had never heard of in gold glitter. It was accompanied by artistically torn sparkly jeans with a large gold braid going down the side. In keeping with his outfit, Shirley had provided gold high tops as his shoes. Spike hoped he could dispose of these dopey outfits before he ran into anyone who knew him. Maybe, he could ask for some hot chocolate later….he mused.

...

Earlier, Spike had been set down on the kitchen floor with a toy car in his hands while the women were drinking coffee. Getting on his hands and knees, he began to push it slowly out of the kitchen and down the hall toward Taras' office. He could still hear the conversation between the two women back in the kitchen.

"Who buys clothes like these for a child? They are all dry cleaning…too much fuss." Mamushka said with a shake of her head. "These fancy designer clothes were only going to be ruined by a little boy. He needs washable, sturdy clothes that the boy can play in."

"Fine. I have an appointment with Peppe Raul today for my hair. I'll pick up some of those washable clothes at one of those department stores on my way home." Shirley sniffed as she stood up from the table. "I hope you can watch Sonny while I am out."

"Yes. Yes. Go do your hair thing. I have my Canasta group coming over this afternoon." Mamushka said, as she picked up her cup to a take another sip of coffee.

"Do you think that's wise? I mean, with Sonny…" Shirley whispered, her head dashing a look over to the doorway.

"What? They're my good friends. I ask them not to tell…they won't tell." Mamushka said with undeniable resolve in her heavily accented voice as she got up to check on Spike.

...

In the next few hours later, Shirley had already left for her hair appointment when Spike began to make another of his several attempts to find out what was going on in Taras' office. Every time, Spike had made some headway in getting close to Taras' office, he was always thwarted by Mamushka. Taras had left orders that no one was to approach his office. He and his men had locked themselves inside in regards to a special project. Spike was absolutely gob smacked that all his devious plans were being stymied by this older Russian woman. That woman seemed to have an almost supernatural sense of detecting mischief.

Tiring of finding Spike again approaching Taras' office on his last effort, Mamushka brought Spike into the kitchen with her, so she could keep an eye on him. Spike felt Mamushka's eyes on him every time he even looked at the doorway while she prepared the ethnic delicacies for her Russian guests.

Presently, Mamushka's friends began to arrive and she rushed out to greet them. Sensing danger, Spike hung back in the kitchen. Accompanied by the clink of the multiple gold bangles clanking together on their wrists as they waved their arms wildly as they visited with each other, a trio of loudly talking, almost squawking women floating on clouds of strong smelling and densely spicy perfume were ushered into the game room where Mamushka had set up the game tables. The doorbell rang again and a steady stream of overly animated and scented women entered the penthouse.

Spike lingered in the kitchen as the sounds of the women gave him an uneasy feeling. After visiting a few minutes, with her guests, Mamushka returned to the kitchen. She dragged Spike into the game room where he was greeted with oohs and ahs from the women. He spun around to leave, but found Mamushka had closed the door to his dread.

Spike slowly turned his head to regard the dozen women who were looking at him expectantly.

"So, this is Sonny. What a darling. Don't be shy, sweetheart. Come over here where we can see you better." A mature woman with a slash of bright pink lipstick across her mouth called.

Spike felt Mamushka's hands on his shoulders turning him around and then felt the constant pressure of her hand on his back, pushing him toward the swarm of women. Before he knew it, he was surrounded and being petted like a prize winning poodle at the Westminster Dog Show. The cheeks on his face were pinched, the curls on his head were ruffled and some women took it upon themselves to crush a moist kiss on his cheek. Spike bit the inside of his cheek to keep from protesting the manhandling put on him by these women. He hoped that if he was patient that it would end soon.

….

Wes and Angel drove into the parking garage at Taras' building. Parking Angels' car in a slot, they looked over to the doors of Taras' private elevator. The men looked at each other with dogged determination for a moment.

"Let's do this."


	6. Chapter 6

**The Downside of Elemental Dieseling**

Author: Nickeltaffy

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…These characters are Joss's. I don't own them, never did and never will. Thanks for the loan, Joss.

…

Chapter 6

As Wes and Angel approached, they could see one of Taras' rather illicit looking men was standing by the elevator doors. He was leaning back against the wall with the button panel with his arms crossed. He was wearing a wrinkled suit that had seen better days as he sized up the pair coming toward him.

"You dat guy, Price?" the man said as he lunged away from the wall into a standing position. His eyes studying the pair, dismissing Wesley's studious demeanor and then traveling over to Angel who met his glance with equal challenge.

"Uh, yes." Wesley said, fixing his glasses on his face. He was wearing one of his old Watcher suits, in order to give the impression of bookworm as he smoothed his tie.

"Who's he?" the man said jerking his head at Angel and shifting his eyes toward Angel with suspicion.

"He's with me." Wesley responded with a superior air that the subject was no up for discussion.

In response, the man looked away with a sneer and put his hand up to the headset stuck in his ear.

"He's here and he brought company." He stated with his eyes turned away, listening to his headpiece. He looked back at Angel as he huffed, "Yeah."

The tinny sound of a voice on the other end could be heard directing the man. Finally, the man brought down his hand, lumbered around and pressed the button calling the elevator. He turned back to Wes and Angel.

"You can go up." He said as the elevator opened its' doors at that precise instant.

…...

Back at Wolfram and Hart, Fred was trying to distract herself by doing some paperwork in her office back in the lab. She fidgeted at her desk, finally pulling her hair back into a ponytail as she did her best to concentrate on the work in front of her. She opened a large manila folder and began to read. She reached forward to pick up a pencil to make notes. She looked up to see that there were none on her desk. She opened the top drawer of her desk and did not find any pencils inside. That's funny, she thought. She prided herself on keeping a lot of sharpened pencils on hand. She sat back in her chair and just happened to look up. That's when she saw the multitude of sharpened pencils sticking into the ceiling over her desk.

"Spike!" She said with a grin, picturing the vampire sitting at her desk slinging the pencils upwards.

The smile slid from her face as her thought turned again to the situation with Spike. She jerked herself up into a standing position and thought. 'Okay. That does it! No more waiting around here for someone to tell me that they found Spike. Spike always called me Science Girl. Now, I am going to use it to find him.' Fred walked over to a file cabinet, yanked it open and pulled out an overstuffed file with jumbled papers. She still had all the readings on the Quavolchan stone. She knew that the stone had a unique energy signature. She reasoned that if Spike still contained that energy, it should be possible to use it to locate him.

"Okay, guys. I'm done waiting. I'M going to find Spike." Fred said determinedly to herself.

…...

Spike was glad that the women finally seemed to tire of poking and prodding him as they turned back to their card tables. He noticed that several women had cocktails and others had cigarettes smoldering in the ashtrays located by their elbows. It hit him that he had not had a drink or a smoke in several days which was an approximate eternity for him.

The most enticing thing in the room was the cigarette smoke; the sensual smell of the smoke seemed to follow him like a predator. He tried to resist, but he found himself mesmerized by the smell of the cigarette floating in the air. He spied an older woman wearing a magenta silk blouse with bulbous gold buttons place her cigarette in the ashtray by her elbow. Almost hypnotized, Spike approached the table where the ashtray was sitting. The cigarette smoldered, sending up a wisp of smoke like a snake charmer's cobra. He stood there at the corner of the table, staring at the ashtray trying to will the tendril of smoke over to him. He was standing there, just inches away from table as he slowly extended his hand toward the ashtray. Suddenly to his dismay, a larger hand whisked the tray over to the other side of the table away from him.

"Alla, watch your cigarette. The child almost burned himself." A woman with a leopard print scarf artfully draped and pinned around her shoulders on the other side of the table scolded the smoking woman who looked abashed. Then, of all things, the woman with the scarf had the audacity to smile patronizingly at Spike, who stared back stunned.

Seeing his prize so easily taken away from him, Spike had to fight against his own nature to keep from pursuing it. Monitoring himself, Spike pinched his lips together to keep from voicing what he would have likely said as an adult.

"Sonny, you come ovar here. You get into trruble over dere, Myedvyezhohnahk" Mamushka called over, patting the side of her leg.

Feeling everyone's eyes on him, Spike grudgingly made his way over to Mamushka. Once he got closer, he was surprised to find himself swung up onto her lap.

"You help me play da cards, okay?" Mamushka entreated as she cocked her head to look at him and giving him a slight pat on the rump which made Spike momentarily uneasy.

"Oh, well. It was better than pushing that stupid toy car around." Spike thought.

…...

When the doors of the elevator opened onto the penthouse, there were three large men standing there to greet Wesley and Angel. Wesley was wise enough to stand next to Angel expectantly to wait for an invitation to be issued for the vampire to enter.

"Welcome. Please follow me, Mr. Pryce." Smolin said as he extended his arm toward Taras' office. "Mr. Golovchenko would like to see you alone. Your associate can wait here."

Wes moved out of the elevator with Angel following a step behind. Wes turned slightly to look at Angel. Angel acknowledged with a emphatic blink that everything was acceptable. Wes' eyes shifted to the men and back to Angel.

"Wait here." Wes commanded, in effort to establish the relationship in front of the men.

Crossing his arms, Angel stood there, coolly looking at the other two men. Taras' men were both large imposing men who held themselves that somehow implied a threat. One had an earpiece like the man downstairs. Angel sniffed the air slightly. Humans, he thought. There was silence between the three men as they waited.

…...

Wes was ushered into Taras' office. Taras was standing on the far side of the desk, contemplating the object sitting there in front of him.

"Boss, this is the expert in demon languages, I told you about." Smolin announced, stopping at the doors as Wes entered further into the office.

"Er..Hello, I'm Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." Wesley said as primly as he could.

"Yes. Thank you for coming in such short notice. My name is Taras Golovchenko." Taras grasped Wes' hand in his meaty one. "I understand you translate demon languages, yes?"

"Indeed. I am lettered in twenty five different demon languages." Wesley said and then cleared his throat. He didn't want Taras see him as any obvious threat so he fiddled with the knot on his tie. Bending down, he took a deep breath as he peered at the object on the table. "Is this what you called about? It's amazing."

"Ah, Right to it! I like that!" Taras clamped his hand on Wes' shoulder. Wes feigned a wince for Taras' consumption. "You will do a translation of the text on the vessel."

Spinning toward Smolin, Taras commanded. "Leave us. Let no one in this room until I come out. Is that understood?"

Smolin nodded as he backed out of the room and closed the double doors. Wes heard the lock slide into place.

…...

Despite the situation, Spike found himself actually enjoying the card party the women were having. He discovered that Canasta was a version of Rummy. It wasn't poker and no kittens were involved, but it was better than sitting on floor or watching one of those horrid children's television programs. At first, Mamushka asked his advice on what card she should play, everyone seemed to enjoy how the little boy's eyes went over the cards that were in play and Mamushka's hand. He finger went out and deftly pointed out the card she should play. Mamushka put the card on the table as Spike instructed with a wink to her partner. Ten minutes later, Mamushka found herself going out far earlier than she had ever before and she and her teammate caught their opponents with an exceedingly high number of points.

"Sonny, you are so smart! I never won dat many points in one hand. You're a genius, dat's what you are!" Grabbing Spike's head, Mamushka crushed a kiss on Spike's forehead. Spike blushed a little bit at the open praise as he settled back with a slightly embarrassed grin.

For the rest of the party, Spike was being celebrated and extolled as some kind of prodigy. All the women were very impressed with his card playing skills. He was being called from table to table to assist one of the women during her card play. Everyone of them telling him how smart, handsome and sweet he was, to which Spike was surprised at how good it felt.

At one point in the party, Spike said to himself. "I'll say one thing for these ladies…they're right bleedin perceptive!"

…...

Angel continued to stare at the men by the elevators, when the doors opened once more and a newly coiffed and bleached Shirley appeared. She had several bags from department stores hanging from her arm as she was digging in her purse. Looking up, she saw the three men standing there and from her expression, it obviously did not please her at all.

"What are you doing standing here?" Shirley said indignantly. Then with irritation evident in her voice, she yelled. "Smolin! Smolin!"

"Yes, mam." Smolin came over from the direction of Taras' office.

"Is there somewhere else you can put these gentlemen? It is really off-putting seeing them just standing there when you get off the elevator." Shirley complained. Looking around, she asked "Is my mother-in-law still having her party?"

"Yes, you are right. Of course. Yes, Madam is still having her party in the game room." Smolin snapped his fingers and gestured for the three men to follow him.

Shirley watched to see the men leaving the entrance hall and then spun her heel to make her way back to the game room.

Angel and the other men slowly measured each other as they entered the entrance to the large living room. Just for a moment, Angel could swear he could smell Spike, and then it disappeared.

"Say, is there somewhere I could get a cup of coffee?" Angel asked, wanting to see more of the penthouse, hoping to search the premises.

"Go get him a cup of coffee." Smolin commanded one of his men.

One of the men disappeared back on the other side of the entry hall. He came back a couple of minutes later with a cup of coffee for Angel which he grudgingly took. Angel's eyes searched the penthouse as he sipped his coffee, trying to think of a reason to use to look for Spike.

…...

Inside the office, Taras had removed the warding spell that surrounded the relic. Wes examined the relic in his hands checking the lid, seal and body for cracks; which, luckily, he didn't find any. Wesley had begun to translate the text from the object, taking copious notes.

Turning the relic in his hands, he began to put together the text. He was very surprised to see the word Pylea on the vessel. He was even more disturbed by the word 'cow'. Since the team's trip to Pylea, he knew that this text could be a direct threat against Fred. He needed to get Fred to safety, so Tara couldn't find her. Pushing away from the desk, Wes looked up at Taras.

"I believe I need to reference some books back at my office to clearly translate the text." Wesley said as he straightened his papers, and then standing up.

I thought you were an expert in languages. I would not have shown you this item, if you were unable to decipher the writings." Taras said as he came closer to Wes

"You see, there is some very un..unusual references on the base. I need to confer with some colleagues to make sure that I have the correct translation." Wes said, putting a stammer into his voice.

"There is no need to confer. You are not leaving." Tara said ominously as he leveled a pistol at Wes.

The doors opened with Wes walking very carefully with his hands held up. Taras was following him just behind him with a gun. Wes' eyes looked directly at Angel, giving him a signal. Angel smashed a fist into the face of the larger of the two men standing next to him. The man flew back against the wall. As Angel swung around on the smaller man who dodged the blow, Wes began to turn to launch himself at Taras. Years of street fighting showed itself, as Taras easily gained the upper hand by slamming the base of the gun into Wes' shoulder. Wes went on his knees with pain. Seeing Wes go on his knees, Angel swiftly charged toward him but found himself collapsing as the smaller man rammed a stun gun into his side.

"Very good" Taras said, pleased as he watched his men bind the arms of Wes and Angel. "Take them to the basement."

Sounds of arguing women could be heard coming from the game room as Wes and Angel were pulled roughly to their feet and pushed toward the elevator. When the elevator doors opened, Angel and Wes were slammed into the back wall of the elevator. Taras' men grabbed them by the back of their shirts and turned them around.

There was the sound of a door opening and then the sound of heels stomping toward the entry hall.

"Taras! You must do something about your mother. They were smoking and drinking in front of him. They were even teaching him to gamble!" Shirley called out; clearly incensed from the situation she had left.

She came stamping toward Taras who was standing there with his arms folded and a calm look on his face. Shirley pulled her hand forward and Spike lurched in between them. Spike staggered to gain his balance. He looked up at the adults hovering over him and then looked toward the elevator. His chin dropped.

There, in front of him, were Wes and Angel who starred back with equally startled expressions as the doors closed.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Downside of Elemental Dieseling**

Author: Nickeltaffy

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…These characters are Joss's. I don't own them, never did and never will. Thanks for the loan, Joss.

…

Chapter 7

"What? What exactly just happened here?" Spike thought as the sight of Angel and Wes in the elevator finally soaked into his brain.

The doors had already slid closed with a low hiss before Spike could gather himself to move. Still slightly dazed, Spike mechanically moved forward toward the closed elevator doors as Shirley and Taras continued their increasingly animated discussion regarding his mother. Spike put his hands on the cool metal as if to make sure that he had actually seen Angel and Wes a moment before. He turned back to the adults as Shirley lambasted Taras about his mother's poor attempt at childcare that afternoon.

Really, Spike didn't see the problem that Shirley had with the way he had spent his afternoon. It had been quite the enjoyable afternoon with the ladies. Sure, many of them had seen better days, but that didn't mean that they were right pleasant company in their own right. There were drinks, smokes and cards. These ladies seemed to value the pleasing pastimes as much as any self respecting vampire. If the situation had been different, he would have been delighted to invite a few of the ladies to the next round of kitten poker over at Wolfram and Hart. He already had a few favorites among the ladies. Sweet and gentile Dusya seemed to be his biggest fan and thought he could do no wrong. She even turned her head and pretended not to notice when he was stealing sips from her highball cocktail. The earthy and robustly shaped Polina could really tell a good salty joke. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at a particularly outrageous one and betray his feigned childlike innocence. Small and ancient Alla smoked like a stove pipe and always seemed to have a lit cigarette dangling from her fingers. You could tell that she could always be counted on having a light or an extra ciggie. Of course, there was Mamushka whose warm maternal side seemed to make everything all right with the world. Her enticing Russian delicacies were not tasty, but also addictive.

It was about twelve minutes ago that Shirley had breezed into the game room during the last hand. Spike was just setting down Dusya's glass when he looked up and saw Shirley standing there, watching him. The small pleasant smile on her face slid off as she took in the scene in front of her. Before Spike knew what was happening, he found himself the subject of a verbal catfight between the ladies. He heard shrill female voices spewing a lot of Russian words and accompanied by the sound of their bracelets as they clinked as a result of the dramatic gesturing. Although, Shirley did not speak Russian, she seemed to have no problem keeping up her end of the argument. All of sudden there was deadly silence. Spike stood there, his eyes huge as they took in the standoff between Shirley and Mamushka and her Canasta club. In the next instant, Shirley captured Spike's wrist and charged out of the room with him.

Now, here he stood like a bleedin idiot. The last thing he expected see was Angel and Wes in the middle of all that mother tiger drama. It really threw him for a loop for a moment. Somehow, someway, Angel and Wes had managed to get themselves captured. The day was really not turning out how he had hoped it would be.

"Oh great! Now I have to put rescue them on my things to do; as if my day wasn't already full enough. Might as well see if I can pull some info out of the old guy." Spike thought.

"Who's that?" Spike asked, doing his best to keep the innocence in his voice and pointing to the elevator.

"No one." Taras said, dismissing the child's question.

"Are they in trouble?" Spike asked, hoping to get some information on where the men were being taken.

"It does not concern you, child." Taras said with a slight scoff.

"Don't talk to him like that, Taras! It is perfectly appropriate for him to be curious about his environment." Shirley suddenly interjected and pointedly looked at Taras. "I won't have you stunting his natural curiosity."

Doing his best to hide his smirk, Spike began to like Shirley more and more. The old girl had guts! He was glad she was on his side.

"Those men were hired to do a job." Taras stated. "Now be quiet, the adults are talking."

Never caring for being told to be quiet, Spike went over and rapidly pulled on the pocket of Taras' trousers until he got the man's attention again.

"What kind of job? Where are they going?" Spike said, looking intently up at Taras.

"Taras.." Shirley warned, giving Taras a look that bespoke many threats between them.

"I sent them on a special job downstairs." Taras said, yielding to the woman he treasured.

"They look like they got smacked. Were they bad?" Spike stated, pointing at the elevator.

"Too many questions! Shirley, you handle this!" Taras declared as he spun toward Shirley. "I refuse to be grilled by a toddler!"

"Don't yell at her!" Spike yelled as he challenged Taras, kicking him in the shin.

"Youch! Why you.." Taras yelped as he pulled up his leg to cover his injury with his hands. Setting the leg back down, he began to narrow his eyes at the child standing in front of him.

"Taras! He is just a child. He can't control his emotions." Shirley said as she pulled Spike back against her. "I would hope you would set a better example."

Taras' mouth tensed as he looked from Spike to Shirley. Finally, with a low grumble and a hand dismissing the two of them, he turned and limped back to his office.

Shirley pulled Spike away from her and got on her knees in front of Spike. Holding both of his upper arms in her hands, she spoke directly to him while she was looking in his eyes. Spike was surprised to find himself feeling a little chagrined about the whole kicking episode as he looked at Shirley's disappointed face.

"Sonny, violence is not an acceptable behavior. You've earned a time out for kicking Uncle Taras." Shirley calmly decreed. Then standing up, she guided him over to the nearest corner. "I want you to stand here while I go talk to the ladies in the game room. Do not move until I get back."

Spike was rather pleased with himself about the time out. It could not have worked out better! The whole kicking incident got him some unsupervised time alone. Spike stood there for a few moments until he was sure Shirley had gone back to the game room. He leaned back and checked to see if the coast was clear. He spun around and marched over the elevator, checking over his shoulder several times to see if anyone else appeared. He held up his hand to press the call button on the panel when he saw that it was key operated. There was no key there.

"Buggar, they must keep the key on their persons." Spike grumbled. "I guess I'll just have to do this the hard way."

He tried wedging his fingers in between the doors of the elevator, but he did not have enough strength to pry them open. Giving up climbing down the elevator shaft, his eyes darted around the penthouse as he looked for another exit. It was still daylight outside, so that eliminated climbing down the outside of the building. He had to figure out some way to get down to the lower floors without bursting into flames. That's when his eyes lit upon a corner of large air conditioning vent that was partially hidden by the ghastly decor. Sliding in between two statues and wiggling behind the sofa, he managed to arrive in front of the vent. Luckily it was one of the vents that was attached by a swinging latch, so all he had to do was pull the latch open. Once the vent was open, he saw ductwork extending out into the innards of the building. It was not overly large, so his new smaller person could just fit in the duct. Spike climbed into the duct and pulled the vent closed.

He marched on his hands and knees along the duct work. The light from the room becoming smaller and smaller behind him as he traveled further and further into the building. He could hear Shirley call out his name faintly as he began to hear the rush of the HVAC system become louder and louder. He was coming up to a particularly dark area when he heard Shirley's voice scream out his name in terror. It so spooked him that he turned his head as he was moving his hands forward. The next thing he knew was that he was falling head first down a vertical air duct that ran through the building.

….

Back at Wolfram and Hart, Fred had spent several hours compiling the data regarding the Quavolchan stone. She had input all the readings from her early tests on the stone into her computer and was reviewing the findings. She made several attempts to identify the unique power readings that had come off the stones in her initial tests. The computer made a buzzing sound as each of her theories on tracing the unique power signature came back as failure. Fred sat there, staring at her computer with her head in her hands.

"What am I not seeing?" she asked, as she pulled her hair back from her face.

She pulled the long sheets of power read outs in front of her again. She half heartedly made several marks on the readouts. She quickly closed the readouts with a sound of frustration. She got up from her chair and began to pace in her office as she went over the facts in her head. She had plenty of data on the power in the stone, but she had no data of the power in Spike. If only, she had left Knox to deal with that emergency while she examined Spike yesterday, she thought, mentally kicking herself. She desperately needed a DNA sample of his since his encounter with the stone. It would make it much easier to track the energy signature in his person.

Let's see. His cup from yesterday's meeting would have been already washed by now. What else would have a sample of his DNA since yesterday? Spike was a smoker, if she could get her hands on one of his used cigarette butts…but Wolfram and Hart was a non-smoking building.

"Rats! I thought I had something there. Okay, yesterday, what was Spike doing in the building?" She asked to the room.

Then her eyes lit up, looking up over her head, she smiled as she saw the numerous pencils sticking in the ceiling. Fred pulled her chair out of the way. It was way too short to give her access to the pencils. Making a small grunting noise, she wrestled her two drawer metal filing cabinet toward the center of the area behind her desk. Climbing on top, it took her a moment to gain her balance as she bent over at the waist as the thin metal shifted under her feet. Once she had regained her balance, she turned the top of her body to look up at the pencils as she carefully straightened up. The pencils were about three inches above her head when she stood up straight. Studying each pencil, she moved her eyes slowly over the lot.

"Come on, oral fixation!" Fred breathed, looking for the tell tale sign of teeth marks on a pencil Knowing Spike was a smoker, she would have bet dollars to donuts that one of the pencils made it into his mouth. He had been stuck in the building for a number of hours yesterday and was probably itching for a cigarette while he was waiting for her.

"Aha! Gotcha!" Fred exclaimed as her fingers carefully closed around the end of a pencil with definite teeth marks.

…

Angel and Wes had been tied back to back in two chairs in the basement of Taras' building. The concrete walls and floor were cold and clean like a surgeon's office or a slaughter house; neither concept giving happy thoughts to the current occupants. Taras' men seemed to be particularly adroit at tying the men in such a way with heavy rope that they were unable to move. After making sure that both men were secure, Tara's men went back to the elevator to go back upstairs. Angel and Wes were alone in the basement. Both men had not yet fully recovered from their treatment in the penthouse. Angel was still fighting the sensation of the stun gun, while Wes was gingerly moving his neck to see how badly he was hurt.

"Angel? Are you okay?" Wes whispered, leaning his head back to hear.

"Yeah. Just trying to shake this thing off, then I'll see about getting us free." Angel muttered, as he blinked his eyes. "How are you?"

"Just dandy, other than the large bruise the size of Maine I can feel forming on the side of my neck. At least, he missed my collarbone." Wes responded, exasperatedly.

Both men strained at the ropes that tied them to the chairs and to each other. After a few minutes of straining, it became apparent that they were going to have little success at freeing themselves.

"It seems we're stuck here." Angel said, after giving the ropes one final pull.

"So, it would appear." Wes confirmed. Then turning his head slightly toward Angel. "Well, at least we found Spike, albeit a pint size version."

"You're right. That stone's power went off again like Lorne said it would." Angel sighed and asked anxiously. "He seemed alright, didn't he?"

"We're just lucky that he didn't give us away." Wes stated with relief. He then added. "He may not even know who we are. Remember, he was having memory problems."

"You're right. He was having trouble with his memory, yesterday. Poor little fella." Angel sympathized. "He must have been pretty scared when they found him."

"It seems the lady of the house has him pretty well in hand." Wes mused as he thought of Spike under the control of the rather extravagantly dressed woman he saw.

All of a sudden there was a sound of a sizeable thump coming from the large HVAC system on the far side of the basement. Both men did their best to look over where the sound came from, but hearing nothing further, went back to their conversation.

"She's quite formidable! You didn't see her when she came up on the elevator. I wouldn't want to cross her." Angel said, making a sound of whew at the end of the last sentence. Then he added with a slight chuckle. "By the way, did you see what Spike was wearing?"


	8. Chapter 8

**The Downside of Elemental Dieseling**

Author: Nickeltaffy

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…These characters are Joss's. I don't own them, never did and never will. Thanks for the loan, Joss.

…

Chapter 8

Spike slowly raised his head from where his body lay sprawled in the base of the large ventilation shaft located in the basement. He hazily opened his eyes and blinked a few times before becoming fully awake. What? Where was he, he wondered. The last thing he remembered was losing his balance in the duct and then he was falling. He looked up at the unending dark void that hovered over him. Reaching up, he brought his hand to the back of his head as he slowly shook it and thought. "Hmm. That was a bit of a nasty fall. Thank goodness, I landed on my head. Now where exactly am I?" He was in no hurry to move as he inspected his surroundings. To his right, he could see a large metal box containing_ t_he mechanics of the HVAC system. There was a large motor hovering next to and slightly over his body with a large fan that turning ominously. He realized his luck of landing where he did, an inch or so over and it would have not been pretty. Carefully, turning his head he could see dim light filtering in through the vents on the far side of the unit. As he pondered the best way to extricate himself from the situation, he realized he could hear the murmur of adult male voices filtering into the unit.

"Did you see what he was wearing?" Angel said with a slight chuckle. "Spike would have had to have had mental issues to agree to wear that."

"Now Angel, I don't think he had any choice in the matter. He is just a child." Wes primly responded and then joined in the merriment. "Oh, it really was awful, wasn't it?"

"He looked like he was opening for a Vegas act. You didn't happen to notice any white tigers while you were there?" Angel joked as his laughter began to bring tears to his eyes.

"No, I didn't. But, I think I did hear the announcement that he would be appearing in the main lounge tonight." Wes snorted.

"That outfit would make Lorne's wardrobe seem sedate." Angel speculated jokingly. "I think Lorne would be happy to have someone else that shares his Technicolor fashion sense."

"It did seem a bit extreme, even for Lorne." Wes said, taking large breaths and trying to calm down.

"Makes me wish I had a camera. That would have been the firm's Christmas card this year." Angel postulated.

Both men broke out in new waves of uncontrollable laughter at the thought.

Outrage coursed through Spike's small body while he clenched his fists as he listened to the bloody poofter making fun of him. "Where did the Ponce get off critiquing my appearance? Shouldn't Peaches be more concerned in making sure his hair stood up correctly? What if the stock market crashed on the national hair gel reserves?" He thought as he listened to Wes and Angel carry on about his current ensemble. Spike looked down at his clothes which had gained a layer of dust from his adventure in the ductwork. Although, he did not really care for the clothes, he knew that Shirley had purchased them for him as an expression of her affection for him. He was not going to let these boneheads cheapen her heartfelt endeavors. "Okay, they are hideous; but that's not a crime. There are worst things in the world other fashion offenses, you know!" he thought. Spike's face flushed with righteous anger as he got to his hands and knees.

Dodging the motor and crawling over to what looked like a panel, he pushed on it with his feet to find it suddenly spring open thanks to hinges lining one side. He cringed as he heard the door bash against the metal framework of the AC unit. It wasn't the smoothest action he had ever done; he peered out of the access panel of the building's large HVAC unit. He was glad to see that no one had noticed his slightly less than smooth maneuver with the vent panel. He glanced around the basement from his perch and then at the floor below. From where he sat, he saw that he was suspended just less than five feet from the ground. From his perspective, it might have as well been twenty. Spike was aware that he was not going to exit the AC unit gracefully, but he didn't have any other option. He rolled over on his stomach and lowered himself over the edge, the toes of his feet dangling six inches above the floor as he fully extended himself from the opening. Looking over his shoulder, he let go of the frame of the vent and dropped to the floor. His feet hit hard on the basement floor, making his stumble and he fell ungainly onto his rear. When his momentum finally stopped, Spike ended up sitting with his legs sticking straight out in front of him staring at the AC unit. His rear end smarting, Spike's face crumbled into a grimace as his hand went back to rub his offended dignity. This smaller body could be a real pain, he decided.

He looked to see that the men were tied up back to back in a pair of chairs under a bright light on the far side of the basement. Luckily, the air exchanger was in a darkened corner of the basement. He saw that neither man had noticed his less than ten point landing. He was especially surprised to see that Angel had not noticed his less than spectacular exit from the ventilation unit, what, with vampire hearing and all. The Poof was having too good a time making fun of my clothes, Spike grumbled inwardly. He thought "Let's let everyone have a good time, boys!"

Shaking his head and laughing, Angel suddenly froze when he noticed the little figure standing next to him. The merriment instantly evaporated from his face and his eyes widened in shock at Spike's sudden presence.

"Uh. Hello." Angel said slowly at the small face solemnly peering at him.

"Hi." Spike answered, just staring unwaveringly at the brunette vampire.

"What? Oh! Spike! What are you doing here?" Wes stated with surprise in his voice as he turned to see to whom Angel addressed.

"Who's Spike?" Spike asked, making sure his eyes were huge and apparently completely innocent.

"You are. Don't you remember?" Wes asked, turning his head to look back over his shoulder at the child.

"Uh uh." Spike answered and looked down at his feet. "Spike's my name?"

"It sure is." Angel interjected with an almost enthusiastic parental tone. "Do you remember us?"

"Uh uh." Spike responded as he looked around. Jerking his head around to Angel, he asked. "Spike's a tough guy name, isn't it?"

"Yes, you're a very tough guy. You're a hero, too." Angel responded, encouragingly.

"I am?" Spike sounded surprised. He rarely got any recognition from Angel when he was adult for his achievements. Despite knowing that Angel was talking to a child, the praise felt wonderful.

"The best I know!" Angel affirmed with a smile.

Clearly thrilled and grinning, Spike asked. "What's your name?

"My name is Angel and this is Wes." Angel stated, as he leaned his head toward the child. "We're very good friends of yours."

"You are?" Spike almost choked on the sentiment as he responded. He didn't want to admit it but this was getting to him.

"Yes. We're very good friends." Angel affirmed with a nod. "We've come to take you home."

"You did?" Spike repeated almost stunned before getting a hold of himself. Taking a step back, he let his eyes wander over the men tied up before him. "You don't look like it."

"Well, that's because…." Angel stalled as he tried to think of a plausible reason for being tied up.

"We're playing a game!" Wes suddenly interjected.

"Yes, that's right. We're playing a game!" Looking over his shoulder in relief, Angel quickly jumped on the bandwagon to portray the current situation as part of a game.

"Watcha ya playin?" Spike asked as he tilted his head in puzzlement.

"Good guys and bad guys." Angel announced

"Oh." Spike made a noise as he processed the information. Then with an interior smile, he asked. "Which ones are you?"

"We're the good guys!" Angel pronounced with some pride.

"Oh! That's too bad." Spike sounded disappointed. "Is that why you're tied up?"

"Yes. You see, the bad guys have us tied up and we're just waiting for a hero to rescue us." Wes stated. "I don't suppose you would care to play? We do need somebody to rescue us."

"Me?" Spike asked, clearly impressed with the offer.

"I think he is just the right person for the job. What do you think, Wes?" Angel commented as he looked Spike up and down to his apparent approval.

"I believe this young man is perfect for the job." Wes confirmed, with a wink.

"I am?" Spike answered as he was wondering how long he could stretch this interchange out.

"Yes, you are!" Angel excitedly affirmed, clearly trying to motivate the child. "All you need to do is untie us. You think you can do that?"

Spike nodded vigorously. Staring at Angel, Spike continued to stand there without moving. Angel raised an eyebrow at the lack of activity from the youngster.

"Uh, Spike. How about now?" Angel asked, slowly.

"Now what?" Spike responded, seemingly distracted.

"Untie us." Angel prompted, indicating the ropes with a nod of his head.

"Oh, okay." Spike nodded as he disappeared between the two men.

A few more seconds went by and Spike reappeared at Angel's side.

"I don't know how to untie." Spike confessed, leaning toward Angel. Of course, Spike knew how to untie the knot, but this opportunity didn't come along everyday. He wanted to see what Angel and Wes would do if he threw them some curveballs.

"Perhaps, he is too young." Wes proffered as he considered the situation.

"Nah, I believe in him." Angel disagreed. He tilted his head toward the child and said encouragingly. "Just pull on the ropes until the knot comes undone. I know you can do it."

"Okay." Spike sighed as he nodded.

Spike again disappeared between the two men. There was a flurry of tugging on the ropes between them but neither man felt the ropes release. As Spike knelt there, he put his chin in his hand to consider the situation before him. Sure, he could untie the lunkheads, but what was the fun in that? While he had these two poofters at his mercy, he might as well mess with them a little, right? Well then, let's carry on, he decided. He stood up and turned to Angel with his head bowed with failure.

"It's too hard." Spike sighed, but looked through his lashes to secretly watch Angel's reaction.

"Hmm. Maybe…you can go find something to cut the ropes with." Angel proffered without really thinking it through.

"Okay!" Spike affirmed as he charged off into the darkness

"Uh, Angel. That might not have been idea." Wes said with a dreading trepidation. "You realized you just sent a child off to find something sharp."

...

Putting down the tiny pliers, Fred was just making the last few adjustments on the handheld energy detector she had customized to detect the specific energy from the Quavolchan stone. If Spike was anywhere in the hemisphere, this device would lead them to him. She closed the casing on the device and turned it on. The screen lit up a bright lime green for a few seconds, before it became a pale blue. Suddenly a graph appeared superimposed over a map of Los Angeles. Fred stared at the screen as she waited for the device to tell her anything. The detector suddenly emitted a series of beeps and noises in her hand. Finally, on the screen a tiny flashing dot of red appeared. Fred made a triumphant fist pump in front of her as she gleefully yelled. "YES!"

Smiling and continuing her small celebration, Fred leaned over to phone and punched in Gunn's extension.

"Hey, Charles. You feel like going for a ride, tonight?" She said with a grin from ear to ear.

...

On the other side of the basement, the sounds of noisy rummaging could be heard from the darkened sections of the basement. Wes and Angel began to look more and more uncomfortable as they sat there listening to the increasing cacophony of sounds issuing out of the darkness.

"Oh, Cool!" A little voice carried over to the two men who looked at each other momentarily. Their eyes drawn to look back with dread to where the voice issued.

Wes cleared his throat nervously as he shifted in his chair, not being able to tear his eyes away from the darkness. The sudden pattern of little footsteps running toward them had them spellbound. A small gold sneaker appeared at the edge of the light and stopped. Whatever Spike had found, it was giving his some trouble carrying it. In the next instant, Spike lurched forward into the light with his prize.

"LOOK WHAT I FOUND!" He crowed to the room as he staggered under the size.

"Angel! Make him stop! Make him stop! Make him STOP!" Wes screamed with real terror in his voice.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Downside of Elemental Dieseling**

Author: Nickeltaffy

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…These characters are Joss's. I don't own them, never did and never will. Thanks for the loan, Joss.

…..

Chapter 11

"…STOP!"

As Wesley's last word bounced back off the cool cinder block walls, it created an unworldly echo in the basement around the two men and child. There was no reaction from the brunette vampire as he sat frozen at the spectacle of the small vampire proudly standing there. Spike was standing in the pool of light with a grin from ear to ear as his oversized prize pitched crazily in his hands. As Wesley's words finally penetrated through the invisible fog of amazement around his head, Angel snapped awake from his daze. Blinking rapidly, Angel's eyes darted over to the ex-watcher and then back to Spike, who was eagerly awaiting a response.

"Uh… …Spike." Angel said the name haltingly as he looked rather nervously at the small child standing in the pool of light. "Wha. Whu. Where..Where did you find that?"

"Look! Id'nt it neat? It was just lying over there! This is bloody brilliant, huh?" Spike said as he grinned unabashedly at the pair of squeamish men tied in the chairs.

Realizing the terrifying sight he must present, Spike thoroughly enjoyed the moment as he watched the pair of men wrestle with the current sticky situation that faced them. He regaled in observing the men's reactions as he took a few dramatically timed steps toward them. Wesley shrank back with a sick expression as much as the ropes would allow him as he marked Spike's approach. Angel was so overwhelmed that his confusion mirrored that of an international exchange student at a homecoming football game. Now, Spike thought he could get a little revenge for those fashion comments he had overheard earlier so, he added a little drunken swagger to his walk. He took secret delight in the expressions on the two men's faces as they watched him approach. Then to make things little more fun, he relaxed his grip and let the wicked looking fire axe fall behind him, creating a storm of clattering as the blade hit the cement floor. As it did, Spike's eyes were riveted on the pair's reaction which did not disappoint him; if it were possible, Angel's complexion would have dropped two shades paler and Wes' chest was heaving so hard that he looked like he was about to hyperventilate.

"Uh oh! It fell." The small vampire casually announced the obvious to the room.

Unable to withstand the onslaught of the amusement bubbling inside him, Spike quickly turned his back to the men to get control of himself. Biting his lip to keep a guffaw from escaping, the blonde vampire picked up the handle of the axe with two hands and held it up to his chest, so that the blade was resting against the rough concrete floor. He merrily dragged it behind him, so the blade of the axe coasted over the concrete, causing a shrill ringing sound. Wesley looked positively desperate at this point as Spike got closer.

"Angel, you've got to do something! Someone will get hurt if he tries to free us with that axe!" Wes rolled his head back and urgently whispered. "Namely, one of us!"

"What do you expect me to do?" Angel answered, completely baffled at what to do.

"You're his sire! Reason with him!" Wesley insisted, his voice becoming unintentionally higher.

"Right, because the adult Spike was so logical and contemplative…there should be no hindrance in persuading the four year old version that this is a bad idea. Piece of cake!" Angel answered, peevishly.

"Are we going to have cake?" A childish voice piped up as an enormously pleased Spike suddenly appeared by the two men, with an excited expression.

"What? Oh, oh yeah! Sure, why not…if we have any fingers left or hands for that matter." Wes replied as he waggled his head with the absurdity of predicament.

"Wes, you're not helping." Angel muttered out of the side of his mouth to the other man. Turning toward Spike, Angel took a breath and addressed the child with a calculatedly pleasant tone. "Spike? Spike, why don't you leave the axe alone?

"You don't want it?" Spike answered, making sure his face reflected innocence belying the wickedly satisfying entertainment he was deriving from the scene.

"It's not that. I just don't think you should be handling it." Angel judiciously chose his words as he looked at the little boy standing to the side.

"Why not?" Spike asked as he pulled in his lower lip to bite it that appeared to display consternation; but in reality, its purpose was to keep him from smiling.

"You might get hurt. You could easily cut yourself or someone else." Angel lectured patiently.

"But you wanted me to get something sharp…You said!" Spike accused, adding a glower to his performance.

"Yes, I did." Angel answered patronizingly. "An axe can be very dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I won't get hurt! I am rescuing you." Spike responded with all the assurance a four year old face can muster. "I'll use the axe to whack those ropes!"

"Angel, I don't like the term whack." Wes sputtered over his shoulder to Angel. "Dear God! Don't let him whack!"

"I think that the axe is too big for you." Angel ignored Wes' comment and focused his eyes on Spike.

"No, it's not!" Spike fiercely disagreed, although internally thoroughly enjoying the debate.

"You keep dropping it." Angel pointed out, as he looked pointedly at the axe lying up against Spike's legs.

"No, I don't." Spike quickly responded as he picked up the axe and held it rather unsteadily in his hands.

"I think you did." Angel chided with an even paternal tone.

"No, I don't! That wasn't on purpose!" Spike blurted as he stamped his foot.

To make things a little more entertaining, Spike made it look like he was going to drop the axe as a result of his foot stamping. Worrying that the child might be injured and seeing that the debate was not getting anywhere, Angel decided to use the Ace card he had up his sleeve.

"SPIKE, PUT THE AXE DOWN NOW!" Angel commanded using his Sire's voice

Automatically, Spike's hands instantly opened and the axe once again clattered to the floor. Spike look surprised as he stared at the axe lying on the floor at his feet. Startled by what had just happened, thoughts raced through Spike's mind. "Angel had used his Sire voice! How dare he pull that old number out of his hat! What does he think he's dealing with! Oh wait, he thinks I'm a child. Okay, if we're going to play it that way, let's do it proper."

"Did I do something wrong?" Spike mumbled, looking up. He made sure to paste a feigned hurt look on his face.

"No. It's alright. We just don't want you to get hurt with the axe." Feeling terrible about upsetting the child, Angel tried to appease him with a gentle smile, hoping the explanation would smooth over the hurt.

"You yelled at me!" the small vampire accused with his lower lip sticking out and pointing at Angel.

"Well, Yes and No. I just used my Sire's voice." Angel explained, his eyes looking away.

"You yelled at me!" The injustice creeping into his voice, Spike began to storm. "I just did what you told me to do."

"Spike, Listen…" Angel began, trying to catch the child's eyes.

"No! I'm not playing no more!" Inflating his chest with apparent indignant outrage, Spike announced. He then spun on his heel and went back to the darkness.

"Angel, you have got to get him to release us." Wes leaned back and whispered urgently. "We are running out of time!"

"Spike! Spike, come here." Angel called, ducking his head to peer into the darkness.

"No!" An emphatic childish voice emitted from the darkness.

"Spike, come here now!" Angel commanded, as he began to get frustrated.

"Uh huh! No!" Again, the response was the same from the darkened area. Spike was holding his hand over his mouth in the dark to stifle the laughter; however unavoidably the sound of his broken breathing made it over to Angel.

"Hey, hey. Don't cry. We're not mad at you." Angel said softly to darkness that hid the little boy.

"I'm not crying!" Spike yanked down his hand from his mouth. The mirth suddenly displaced by the affront of being accused of crying.

"Angel, you have to get him to release us!." Wes prompted urgently. "Your current line of communication is not working."

Angel nodded and took a deep breath before he started his next entreaty to the small vampire.

"No, of course you're not." Angel continued. "Spike, please come back."

"No!" The childish voice rang back at the men.

"Angel, I think a little buttering up may do the trick." Wes added as he looked around for the origin of the small voice.

"Spike, you did a very good job at getting the axe." Angel tried to coax the little boy back to them. "You were very smart and brave. No one could have done it better."

"Really? You mean it?" Spike's voice carried out the darkness.

"Yes. Please come back." Angel answered, patiently.

"Yes. Angel's sorry. Please come back." Wes jumped in, hoping to help the situation.

"You won't yell at me anymore?" Spike asked slowly.

"Alright. No more yelling." Angel confirmed.

"You promise?" The small voice countered.

"Yes!" Angel stated emphatically.

"Even if I make a mess?" Spike asked in measured tones.

"Yes, even if you make a mess." Angel answered as he looked briefly over his shoulder at Wes who audibly gulped.

"Okay. Can I still be a hero?" Spike asked as he emerged from the darkness.

"Yeah. Sure." Angel answered, not quite understanding what Spike meant.

"Okay, I'll cut the ropes and save you." Spike stated happily as he bent down to pick up the axe.

"Sp…Spike, I d..don't thin…" Wesley stammered as he tried to pull away from the ropes.

"Spike, put that down!" Angel implored as the small vampire hefted the axe up to his chest.

"I can do it!" Spike firmly announced through clinched teeth as he gave the men a hard look.

"Perhaps, we can convince him to prop axe between us, so we saw the ropes through ourselves." Wes whispered back to Angel..

"Spike, just give the axe to Angel! Please!" Wes pleaded as he writhed in his chair at the sight of the child with the axe.

"No, I can bloody well do it!" Spike responded with a determined look in his eyes.

"Spike! Wait! No! Wait!" The two men desperately called out as they violently struggled against the ropes.

Like a Viking raider, Spike charged over with the axe raised over his head, yelling. The two men cringed in their chairs awaiting the consequence. In the next instance, the ropes suddenly slacken and fell to the floor

"Bleedin told ya!"

…

As Fred and Gunn got into the large SUV and buckled their seatbelts, Gunn turned to Fred.

"So, where are we going?" Gunn asked, raising his eyebrows at the pretty scientist.

Fred held up the energy detector in front of her, staring at the small blue screen which was displaying a small red blinking dot.

"Wherever this tells us to go!" Fred replied as she confidently pointed at the small screen.

…..

As Wes, Angel and Spike were now standing in front of the elevator doors in the basement, Wes was examining the key lock on the call button panel of the elevator. Upon being freed from the ropes, Angel immediately scooped up Spike in his arms and gave him a warm enveloping hug. Spike, at first was tempted to spout off an insult, but thought better of it as he felt the arms holding him in a genuine and sincere embrace. As the pair watched Wes, Angel was not able to keep his hands from Spike; he pressed the child against his leg. Wes stood up with a smile that said the lock was easily picked. He pulled off his tie clip with a shrug.

"Let's get him outta here and back to the offices." Angel stated to Wes, nodding his head toward Spike

"Angel, Taras still has the Hjorlian reliquary upstairs. If my computations are correct from what I translated from the inscription, the star alignment occurring tonight will allow it to be opened. We need to get it from him before that happens." Wes informed Angel of the gravity of the situation.

"Great! How are we supposed to get it without being tasered again?" Angel asked as he tiredly rubbed a hand down his face.

"We have the element of surprise." Wesley weakly offered.

"And what do we do with you know who?" Angel asked, his eyes tilting down toward the small vampire momentarily.

"Yes, I see. It does complicate matters." Wesley muttered as he regarded Spike,

Spike's face wrinkled in disgust as he watched the two men debate their next move. If that ugly urn was going to be an issue, he was going to take care of it. He only hoped that Wes and Angel would stay out of his way.

"Whatever we do, we just can't march in there." Angel commented as he reviewed the situation.

"I can. Shirley likes me!" Spike's voice shattered the adults' concentration. "She likes me a lot! She bought me these clothes."

"Yes, I can see that she thinks a lot of you." Angel said with a smile.

"Angel, I know you may find this a disturbing idea….but we may have something they value more than the urn." Wes stated as he looked speculatively at the blonde vampire

"Wes, you couldn't be saying what I think you are." Angel responded shocked, with a threatening glare as his hand tightened on the child.

"It's not like we're going to honor the trade." Wes smirked as he shrugged.

"Wesley, I'm surprised at you. That's very devious of you." Angel said with new admiration in his eyes. "I like it."

Yes, well…" Wesley answered, flattered.

Angel looked down at Spike and said. "Hey, Spike. Do you want to play a game?"


	10. Chapter 10

**The Downside of Elemental Dieseling**

Author: Nickeltaffy

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…These characters are Joss's. I don't own them, never did and never will. Thanks for the loan, Joss.

…..

Chapter 10

As the elevator doors opened up, the occupants were taken aback by the churning chaos happening in the penthouse. A moment after Shirley had screamed for Spike, the women in the game room came pouring out to investigate. Some began to search for the little boy, while a few tried to comfort a frightened Shirley. Taras' men were uncomfortably scrutinized by some of the woman who wanted now where they had been when the little boy had disappeared. Mamushka bellowed for Taras who irritably appeared at the doors of his office wanting to know what was going on. He and his men were soon drafted into the search for the little boy. The adults were opening cabinets, peering behind furniture and calling the child's name. Everyone was so involved in the search, that no one noticed the elevator doors opening. It wasn't until one of the ladies in a bright Chanel silk blouse who paused in her search looked over and screamed.

Everyone froze as their eyes traveled from where the woman who had screamed was now pointing. There in the elevator, was the curly haired little boy they were searching along with two men. A slender man with a bruised face and in a wrinkled suit eyed the crowd, measuring the situation. Next to him with the child held across the front of him, was a monster. The bulging forehead, yellow eyes and sharp fangs all signaled danger. The monster had his hand wrapped around Spike's mouth while the other imprisoned his arms against his body. The little boy's tender neck was mere inches away from the dangerous fangs. A silence fell upon the room as everyone took in the peril to the child.

"Taras, my good man. It appears that there have been some developments since our previous meeting." Wesley coolly stated. "I hope we can bring resolution to this situation so we'll all be happy."

Looking frantically from the elevator to Taras, Shirley quickly moved toward her husband, reaching for his arm.

"Taras, give them what they want. Don't let them hurt Sonny!" Shirley urgently whispered, her hands grasping his forearm in a death grip in her urgency. Taras continued to stare at the man in the suite, narrowed his eyes as he brought his hand up to pull Shirley's hands from him.

The trio moved off the elevator as the occupants of the room moved back and countered in mass. The women were gripping Taras' men so they would not make a fool hardy gesture that would end up hurting the child. Nevertheless, there was a sense of ominous threat coming from the women, although no one said anything.

Watching the women's eyes dwell on him, Angel began to feel uncomfortable. There was a sense of menace aimed directly at him from the women in the room. His eyes flitted from the women over to Wesley as he shifted Spike in his arms. He cleared his throat uncomfortably as he continued to be perceived as a fiend.

Spike, on the other hand, was enjoying the entire spectacle. He was glad that Angel had a hand over his mouth, so he wouldn't have to muffle his smile. It pleased him to no end that Angel was being thought as the villain. As guardian of the people, being thought as a monster that would hurt children must be like a kick to the tenderest parts of the puffed up poncy do-gooder, Spike mused.

Wesley on the other hand was apparently nonplussed about the reaction of the women in the room. He kept his eyes on Taras, measuring his reaction.

"I believe we have something you want and you have something I want." Wesley reasoned. "I do think you would not want 'anyone' to get hurt." Wesley tilted his head toward Angel who snapped his fangs closer to the small neck held a few inches away.

"What makes you think that I care about that child?"

"Taras!" Shirley gulped as she pulled back to stare at him like a stranger.

"TARAS!" Mamushka exclaimed in

The sound of disapproval rang throughout the room from numerous mouths.

"Yes, it is possible that the child's welfare is not of importance; but, perhaps, there are others would disagree."

"TARAS!" Mamushka's low voice carried over to her son.

"Alright. What is it you want?" Taras sighed as his mouth settled into a firm line.

"I think that would be obvious. I want the Reliquary of Hjorlian you have in your office."

"NO! Absolutely not!"

"Oh come on, now. It's not like you're going to be able to open it up. You don't even know what the inscription says." Wesley countered in his snipped English accent.

"Taras, please. Don't let them hurt Sonny." Shirley pleaded in a low whisper.

Spike heard the whisper and looked over at Shirley's distraught face. He had only thought of this as a game; but seeing Shirley upset was distressing to him. He began to wiggle in Angel's arms. Angel tightened his arms around the small body in reaction.

"Taras, my son. You are a good man. This is only an object. You cannot allow them to hurt a child." Mamushka coaxed.

"Fine!" Taras grumbled as he relented. "Leave the child."

"I am so glad we have come to an agreement." Wes replied. "Once we have the reliquary, we'll release the child."

Taras growled as he watched the three people retreat into his office.

Once Wes had closed the double doors of the office, Angel put Spike on the floor. Spike stood there looking at his feet, not feeling the euphoria he had anticipated. Shirley's reaction was much more upsetting than he had anticipated. Once the lock on the door had been turned, Wesley turned to the others in the office.

"Well, that went well!" Wes stated as he rubbed his hands together.

"Yeah, I guess so. You don't think those women hate me, do you?" Angel nervously asked.

"I would have to guarantee it. You did apparently threaten a small child in front of them.

"Well, what if I told them I was just pretending…." Angel rambled.

Spike stared at Angel and then looked over at Wes, stupefied. Even Wes looked perplexed at Angel's need to please people.

"Angel, focus."

"Right." Angel replied, straightening up.

"There's the reliquary. I just need to remove the wards. Should be some lower class grade." Wes stated as he approached the table. He made a few passes with his hands and said something unintelligible

The air around the urn sparkled for a brief moment. Wes leaned over and picked up the reliquary.

"See? No problem." Wes calmly remarked as he placed it back down on the table.

As he and Angel looked at each other triumphantly across the table, the office doors began to emanate a strange glow.

"Uh! Something is going on!" Spike said as he pulled on Angel's trousers and pointed back at the doors.

"Wes?" Angel asked as he looked over at the doors.

"Hmm. It seems that someone can wield formidable magic out there." Wes peered at the doors that seemed to bowing inward. He held up a hand while grasping a charm around his neck. The bowing stopped but the glow continued.

"I don't think we'll be able to go out that way."

"Wes, it's ten minutes before the sun is completely set. Spike and I can't go outside until then. Remember, vampires?" Angel looked over at Wes. "Can we hold out that long?"

"This charm's power is limited. It will be close. I don't know." Wes looked from the doors over to Angel.

"Wes, we have to get Spike and relic out of here." Angel looked down at the table. "Where's the urn?" Then he spun around, looking wildly around the room. "Where's Spike?"

As soon as Spike saw the door glowing, he knew it was now time to get that pesky urn out of there. He went up on his tiptoes and grabbed the relic from the table. Once he had it in his hands, he looked quickly around. Again, there was his old friend, the air vent. Luckily, because of his small size, he knew he could squeeze through it with the urn and get it safely away. He was sure that Angel and Wes could take care themselves against a canasta club. They could at least rappel down the outside when the sun had set if they didn't want to go back through the apartment.

While Angel and Wes had been so preoccupied with the glowing doors, Spike had whisked the urn over to the air vent. Pulling the grate open, he saw it was smaller than the one in the living room. He would have to crawl on his stomach to get through it. He carefully pushed the relic ahead of him; trying his best to make sure it stayed intact. He made slow but steady progress as he pushed himself along on his stomach. Every now and again, he would have to periodically stop and push the urn ahead of him. The biggest problem he faced was that the urn blocked his vision in this small vent. It was so blockish that he could not see beyond it. He was not able to see the vent up ahead drop at a severe pitch. Spike stopped to push the urn a few inches ahead and suddenly it was rolling down the vent out of sight.

"Buggar!"

….

Fred was staring at the little red dot on the small screen she held in front of her as Gunn drove the black Mercedes SUV.

"Turn here!" She commanded the man behind the steering wheel.

"Are you sure that thing is accurate?" Gunn asked, his face wrinkled in puzzlement.

"Yes, now TURN!" Fred commanded, slightly outraged that her information was incorrect.

Rolling his eyes, Gunn turned the large car down the street of Tara's building.

"You have to pull in here!" Fred said looking up from the screen over to the building on her right.

Gunn did a sharp right into the garage entrance, busting through the thin wood plank that barred the automobile entrance.

"Wow!" Fred gasped then looking over at Gunn who was driving quickly through the garage. She ducked her head with a smile aimed at him. "Oops!"

…

Spike had pursued the tumbling relic down the tilted airshaft. He moved slowly down the grade since he wedged himself by placing his shoulders and legs crossways against the walls of the vent. He found relic where it had luckily wedged on a broken seam in the airshaft right before the juncture of multiple airshafts. Balancing his body across the shaft, he pulled the urn to him with a sigh of relief. His hands did a quick check for any damage on the relic. A glad smile appeared on his face when he realized the relic was undamaged. There was another airshaft at this juncture. He saw that it was level which was a big improvement over the current one. He pushed the urn over to the shaft opening, pushing it with his small fingers to make sure it was well set upon the lip of the airshaft. It was much bigger. He could see a large vent not too far away with fluorescent light pouring in. That was good! The last thing he wanted to do was end up getting a severe tan by exiting the wrong vent. He knew he had gone down several floors, but wasn't sure where he was in the building. Perhaps this vent led to a common area. He flung himself over to the other airshaft, kicking his legs. There was a moment where it looked like he would tumble down the vertical shaft, but his determination allowed him to ungracefully climb into the other vent.

He scooted along the bottom of this new airshaft with the urn in his lap with one arm wrapped around it. He got to the vent. Peering out of it, he could see it opened onto a stairwell. He turned and kicked the vent open. He climbed out into the bright white fire stairwell. Opposite of the stairwell there was a fire door. There was a narrow vertical window in the door. Spike couldn't see any sunshine pouring in, so the door must lead somewhere covered.

He pushed at the door but it wouldn't budge. There was a release bar that ran across the middle. He pushed at it with one hand while holding the relic with the other it wouldn't release. Finally, he set the relic at his feet and used both his hand to press the bar. The door opened slightly. Spike used his body to keep the door open as he turned to pick up the urn. With his arms wrapped securely around it, he pressed his back against the heavy door and used all his body weight to thrust himself through it.

The door pitched open suddenly and Spike staggered backwards into the garage level. At that moment, an SUV charged around the corner. Spike turned to look at it as it stopped mere inches from his nose. For a moment, nothing happened, as Spike stared at the shiny grill that towered over him as the car's engine continued to rumble. A wave of intense heat from the SUV engulfed him as he stood inches away from the front of the towering grill of the car. Then there was the sound of a door slam and the hollow noise of high hells tapping on the concrete as they came scampering around the front.

"Spike!" Fred exclaimed with an ecstatic grin as she moved toward him. She extended both her arms in front of her as moved to wrap them around his smaller body

Hearing his name seemed to break the daze, Spike was mired in. He jaggedly pulled his gaze away from the looming shiny grill of the SUV. He turned his head slightl and was horrified to see Fred moving toward him with her arms open. His eyes widened in dread as he shrank from the pretty woman. Talk about the last person you want see, when you're holding a vessel of doom and their blood can open it.

"No! No! No!" Spike yelled as he turned to quickly run away from a puzzled Fred.


End file.
